Welcome to My Nightmare
by Raven Studios
Summary: Jaesa Willsaam and the Sith Warrior who turned her present their own first-person accounts of Jaesa's conversion from Jedi to Sith. Begins with Nomen Karr's observation outpost and continues through the end of that story arc. (Images in the cover retrieved from the Star Wars Wiki.)
1. Chapter 1

Author's Opening Notes: _The Old Republic_ belongs to Bioware and LucasArts. I'm just playing in their sandbox.

The title is shared by an Alice Cooper song of the same name, a couple lines of which caught my attention.

A brief note: the Sith Warrior is older than might be considered usual, being close to thirty. Thus, she had a life before Korriban—that of an aristocrat for whom formal Sith training was a choice (the edicts mentioned in-game would have come about after she was of age; she was 'home-schooled' by her father from a young age).

Now, without further ado…

* * *

 _Welcome to my nightmare, I think you're gonna like it. I think you're gonna feel like you belong._

~"Welcome to My Nightmare" by Alice Cooper

* * *

-Hella-

The station was a small one, certainly not meant for much more than observation. Off the beaten path—so to speak—it was clear they did not anticipate unwelcome company.

Which was unfortunate for them, since 'unfortunate company' had just disembarked.

The light complement of soldiers Quinn and I encountered confirmed my theory: this place was never meant to be found by anyone it had under observation. The naiveté—or, more accurately, stupidity—of this made me snort softly as I stepped over one of the corpses. I have never understood why people assume something will never be found by 'the enemy' when history clearly shows that everything is eventually found—though, admittedly, not always by 'the enemy,' whomever that may be.

Quinn's on-alert attentiveness buzzed pleasantly at my shoulder as he navigated us toward the heart of the station. He provided a soothing counterpoint to the lingering echoes of fear, pain, and despair of the dead men and women. I never asked, but perhaps I should, how he knows so many general schematics. It's like he has this book of them in his mind and can just flip to the one he wants and unerringly get us where we need to be.

"—would be undetected, but the ship we've been tracking for you is _here_!"

I paused at the door, feeling the pulse of several people's fear/anxiety beyond it.

The answer was unintelligible through the closed door, but the low tone was soothing—or supposed to be. The auras on the other side of the door didn't calm as I palmed the door open.

" _It will not serve you. I will speak with your visitor when the time comes_."

"Then that time is upon you," I noted as I stepped into the room, lightsabers easy in my hands. The men at the monitoring stations were, to all appearances, unarmed. They were certainly without anything more protective than uniforms. Most of them had the weedy look of career technicians all of them had the earmarks of total terror, an appearance confirmed by the way the fear in the room spiked. It was almost clogging to my senses, the fear was so strong.

Apart from the technicians was only a man on the holo: a Jedi in minimalistic robes, with thick hair and beard that might have been brown. He was fit, it's true, but the fact that he wasn't here seemed to me a mark against him.

What conscientious Jedi could possibly condone leaving these people unarmed when tracking a Sith?

Which means that either Nomen Karr is not bothered by collateral damage—an interesting prospect in itself—or he has reinforcements hidden somewhere on the station. If so, it's possible I didn't actually cut through the entirety of the security presence here.

Ah, well. We shall see, I suppose.

I moved into the capture range of the holotransmission, the tech who'd been speaking to Nomen Karr when I arrived moving as far back as he could. "I am here. Say your piece."

"Ah…okay…" the tech's fear went to terror as the full impact of what was happening hit him. He'd been tracking a Sith. Not just any Sith, but the Sith now standing feet from him, armed and ready, with an Imperial Officer in tow and he, the tech, had no idea how many people were alive outside this room and, of those that were, how many were his faction and how many were mine. For all he knew, the station was crawling with Imperial soldiers waiting on a cue from me.

"You never told me we'd be tracking a _Sith_!" the tech hissed at the unflappable Jedi.

"Tch, tch. That _was_ unkind." If I focused, I could catch tiny echoes from the Jedi, but the focus needed to bring clarity to those emotional cues was greater than I felt comfortable exercising. If I knew the station to be absolutely empty, it might have been different.

Then again, I suppose what he feels is of little consequence: it isn't as though he's here for me to contend with. He can but watch.

The Jedi was almost patronizing as he waved a shushing hand at the tech. " _You were provided the details necessary to perform your duties. Now, please, remain quiet._ "

I can see what makes Jedi so sickening; I thought, perhaps, the one on Balmorra was just that blindly devoted to her orders and her superiors. Now, I see that she shares in a common sense of…criminal naiveté.

It's as though Nomen Karr truly believes that anyone I didn't bring onto this station will survive. How stupid is he? And what does this mean in the long run?

" _Sith, I presume you are Darth Baras' new apprentice?_ "

Presume away. The more interesting question is whether his little rabbit is aboard his ship and—if she is—whether or not she is present and listening. I shall have to assume that she is. I hate manipulating blindly, but in this case I have little choice. But first, to know how to come at her, I have to know to what pressures this Jedi subjects her.

" _I am Jedi Master Nomen Karr. Do you know me?_ "

He certainly sounded as though I ought to. I felt my mouth curl into a sneering smile. "And what you say if I said I didn't?" I asked before licking my teeth thoughtfully catching in the line of his mouth a distinct twinge of annoyance. Chuckling, I addressed Quinn over my shoulder, though without looking away from Nomen Karr. "What do you think, Quinn? Should his reputation precede him?"

As ever, Quinn's response was perfectly tuned to the situation, conveying all the distaste for a Force-user a non-Force-user can muster. Surely his tactician's mind was deploring the wastefulness of leaving a station like this to fall into enemy hands to easily while mentally repurposing it to benefit the Empire. I shall have to remember not to let this place fall into limbo; Quinn will know who to send its location to.

Apart from pragmatism, there was a glimmer of amusement at my baiting of this Jedi. A very reserved amusement, it's true, but we all have our petty moments. "Doubtful, my lord. Jedi rarely aspire to galaxy-wide recognition."

It was definite this time, a distinct curl of the lip that indicated Quinn had kicked some soft or sore spot with the Jedi. Not such a perfect Jedi, perhaps? Seeds of pride, then? Of ambition? The lore a Sith receives about Jedi boils down to the fact that they try to divorce themselves from the feelings and emotions that make them sentient beings; most of them are unsuccessful in that they suppress these 'undesirable traits' in such a way that, out of sight out of mind, they can ferment and grow toxic without the Jedi necessarily being the wiser.

"Hmm," I agreed, nodding. "That sounds like... _pride_." I studied Nomen Karr's once more impassive expression again. "Does it irritate you that I have only a _vague_ idea of who you are, Master Karr?" It doesn't matter what I can feel from him: what matters is what his little rabbit feels, if she's there. Without distance, her perceptions will be more acute. Best to acclimate her to sensing the negative of her master as soon as possible, before we meet face-to-face. Give her time to entertain the notion that I am not, in this instance, lying.

" _Then feel flattered, Sith: I have a substantial view of who_ you _are_ ," came the grim and somewhat sour response.

I arched my eyebrows as if inviting him to share with the class, but he did not.

" _Baras and I like to keep tabs on each other. When I heard he'd taken on a new apprentice, I investigated. These men_ ," Nomen Karr gestured to the techs in the room, " _were merely monitoring the equipment. Following orders. There is no need for bloodshed._ "

…is he truly in earnest? I studied his face for a moment, half expecting him to continue. When he didn't, my disbelieving smile became a disgusted sneer before morphing back into a smile. His stupidity has just handed me a weapon I can use if the girl is there and watching. Let her see how cavalier her master is with the lives of others as he tries to shield her from me. It is already necessary that I tear through her former mentor and her parents, but this…this is the perfect opening to the process of wedging her training apart to reveal the fragile center of her being. The process begins with seeding _doubt_.

Slowly, the first steps of the path to bringing this girl away from the Jedi and into my party became clear. Killing her is, I have always felt, wasteful but she absolutely cannot be permitted to remain with the Jedi or join Baras' party. Apprentices of my caliber eventually find themselves on the wrong side of masters of Baras' caliber. It's just how the Sith system works. I don't know how this girl's gift will be of benefit to me, but all the more reason to have access to it and to her. One never knows.

"I'm not a military mind," I answered, "but it seems to me that if they'd _known_ they were tracking a Sith—especially since you claim to know so much about _me_ —they might have taken extra precautions against my showing up."

From the looks on their faces, the techs agreed with my assessment. They already knew how this would end and I think it was only Quinn and his ever-ready blaster that kept them from doing something precipitous—like trying to make a run for it. It's always more interesting when the prey runs, but I'd rather the slaughter happen here, so I can adjust the transmission's capture range to give Nomen Karr and his pretty Padawan a good look at _carnage_. I doubt the girl's ever been within eyeshot of a Sith. The thought reinforced the idea that all my presentation here must fly in the face—as much as possible—of whatever garbage the Jedi espouse about us.

I might be a killer, but I should make it quick and clean unless provoked. It must all be seen as occurring because I am 'under orders' from my master. It must appear that Nomen Karr is the one wasting life by throwing people before me when I have no choice but to obey my master—because I'm sure Jedi are as adamant on obedience from their Padawans as Sith are of their apprentices (for as long as that lasts). If she feels trapped by her apprenticeship then, perhaps, this idea of sharing the feeling of entrapment will work in my favor. One never knows.

"Was it that you wished to preserve Jedi lives that you left these men so under-guarded?" I asked blandly, "Or did you honestly think I—or any Sith—would leave your assets alone, just because you asked it?"

I didn't let him answer. Within seconds, everyone in the room, barring Quinn and myself, lay dead. The whole thing was an exercise in efficiency. There was no chance to run, barely a chance to scream. Death came hard and fast, surgically precise. I usually prefer it that way, so I was glad to exercise my personal preference while attempting to make a point.

Nomen Karr's face was hard when I looked back at him. " _That was an excessive display,_ " he said darkly, voice low in his throat, eyes narrowing at me.

I felt it, a tiny 'pop' of something _very_ un-Jedi. If I felt it at this distance looking at a hologram, and if she's there, even a Padawan must.

I smiled for Nomen Karr, turning off my lightsabers. "Excessive? If you wanted a show of _excess_ , Master Karr, you should have said so. I would have happily obliged."

Nomen Karr proved to be his own worst enemy in that he kept giving me openings to spread my poison to my maybe-there-maybe-not target. "Those men were defenseless and unarmed..." He had the gall to actually sound shocked. How can a Jedi Master of his reputation _not_ have expected such a thing? If anything, it should be my restraint and efficiency that was noteworthy.

Ugh. It's amazing their Order is still standing.

It was not difficult to snarl the answer I flung at him. "And _you_ left them that way, _knowing_ that no Sith ever spared a life because a Jedi requested it _. You_ left them vulnerable and unprotected, _knowing_ that no Sith could afford to leave such an observation post intact, leave the crew alive because they might know something that could inconvenience said Sith later. _You_ put them in an ugly position, Master Karr, knowing _exactly_ how this must play out." I let some of the bridled rage go, injecting a note of grim deprecation into my tone. "Was their sacrifice worth it? Can you sleep with it on your soul?"

Nomen Karr scowled at me, tiny lines etching his face, visible even in the projection. " _That a Sith should speak of consciences and souls proves the weakness of your position. And your sad attempt to deflect responsibility troubles me little: I shall honor Hirosho and his men's lives by dedicating myself to thwarting you and your master._ "

Sounds like revenge to me, dressed up so prettily. And he _was_ angry: there were traces of it in his words and in the faint burning sensation that chafed against my perceptions as I gazed into the hologram's eyes. "You sound very passionate about the matter... _angry_ , even."

He ignored the bait. " _I have long been prepared for the possibility of my operation being discovered._ "

I hope that little girl is there, listening to this. 'Long been prepared' but not prepared enough to save these men. 'Long been prepared' but it is I who shall leave this station breathing.

" _It calms me to know that you and Darth Baras have no idea what you're up against._ "

His expression of smug satisfaction didn't match my definition of 'calm,' but whatever helps him sleep at night, I suppose. "Ah, yes," I nodded, "your little rabbit. Is she here? Is she listening?"

"My lord," Quinn declared in an undertone that, in all probability, went uncaptured by the transmission equipment.

" _No, but your gift for conversation has been your undoing,_ " Nomen Karr answered. I believe he might just be doing just what I'm doing in reverse: giving this Padawan her first good look at the Sith hunting her and hoping to cast me in a negative light. If so, he's marginally more intelligent than I gave him credit for being.

Footsteps followed Quinn's quiet tug at my attention. When I glanced back, I found Republic soldiers finally trooping in, looking grim. They ignored the bodies with their eyes, but a miasma of negative emotions clogged up my senses. Some felt the deaths were my fault, some felt the deaths where theirs. Some were sad, others were angry.

It gave me the first twinges of a headache until I blocked out the additional perceptions as best I could. The headache converted itself into a low level of nausea, easier to deal with.

" _These men are among the Republic's finest. Go with them peacefully and the Jedi Council will take that into consideration_."

Irritation tamped down on the nausea. It's no wonder half the galaxy thinks that the Jedi are fools. I just hope the little rabbit recognizes the placation of forms rather than misconstrue this as a true gesture of benevolence. He can't afford to let me walk away any more than I could afford to leave this base intact.

He knows I'll keep hunting his precious Padawan.

I sighed, shaking my head. " _You wanted a show of excess, Master Karr? You shall have it._ " And I can trust Quinn to do what he can to ensure I have the opportunity to make my show without significantly increasing the danger to ourselves. We've done this dance before, he and I, and he gets better with each repetition.

The adrenaline of a fight with armed opponents helped block out the fear and agony that followed. Limbs sheared off, ricocheting blaster bolts bounced off my lightsabers to strike equipment or the teammates of those shooting at me. The reek of cooking meat and the sharp smell of carbon scoring filled the air.

Finally, though, there was silence and stillness, apart from Quinn's and my heavy breathing and the thunder of my own heart. My hands shook slightly as my pulse pounded in my veins.

I strode back to the holoterminal and adjusted the capture range, smugly noting the stony look on Nomen Karr's face. Today, as far as he was concerned, I'd signed my own death warrant—though I think we both know that he felt I needed to die the day I joined Baras' camp. This just gives him legitimacy, an excuse to call for my head.

Jedi are legalistic that way, it seems.

" _I see Darth Baras has found himself a singularly vicious weapon in you. This experience has given me valuable insight. I'll be prepared the next time we meet, Sith._ "

I highly doubt it. But it's given his little rabbit insight, perhaps. Hopefully insight that is beneficial to me. And, just maybe, beneficial to her after a fashion.

"Yes," I agreed. "But will _she_ be?" I smirked and cut the transmission.

"Do you think she was listening in?" Quinn asked after a few silent moments dragged on.

"I think so, yes," I answered, clipping my lightsabers to my belt. "We're done here. Let us give the next twist of the rack."

Quinn fell in at my shoulder, his aura soothing against my perceptions.

* * *

-Jaesa-

I stood off to one side as Master Karr answered the emergency hail. My stomach tightened with apprehension as the holo switched on. Surprise whispered from Master Karr, but he spoke calmly, "What seems to me the matter, Hirosho?"

Hirosho. I recognize the name: he was set to watch The Sith. I shuddered inwardly; Master Karr names Darth Baras, his rival...but gives no name to Darth Baras' enforcer. She is, has always been, simply 'The Sith,' as if to use her name would be to attract her attention.

I have a bad feeling about this...

"What is it that concerns you?"

" _Master Karr_ ," Hirosho's words came out in a patter, agitated and...frightened. No, _terrified_. " _You promised we would be undetected, but the ship we've been tracking for you is_ here!"

"Calm your fear, Hirosho," Master Karr soothed, folding his hands into his sleeves. "It will not serve you. I will speak with your visitor when the time comes."

I shifted nervously from foot to foot. No one's said it outright, but I can read between the lines. Darth Baras wants Master Karr dead—that's no secret. But Master Karr poses a significant threat to Darth Baras because of _me_. And sooner or later, that enforcer—if she can't be stopped—will turn her attention on _me_.

I made up my mind to add another quarter hour to my meditations before bed: the idea of The Sith focusing on me, specifically, made me feel a kind of sick-scared I'd never experienced before.

" _Then that time is upon you_ ," the voice was low, full of humor—not unlike Lady Gesselle's—but darker. She strode easily into the holo's capture range. " _I am here. Say your piece._ " She said it, as if she were a judge opening a court hearing.

It was the first time I'd ever seen her, and she wasn't what I'd expected: marble-pale, heavily veined wreck of a human being with thin straggly hair and bruises beneath her eyes, glimpsed through the eyeholes in the mask she wore to hide her disfigurement.

The only thing this Sith had in common with my mental image was the fact that she wore her fingernails—visible because her gloves were fingerless—painted dark.

She was middle height, her red hair pulled aggressively back into a high ponytail. Her face, even distorted by the blue tones of the holo, showed Dark Side ravages, and her makeup made her look even fiercer than many far-gone Sith. Her smile and the light in her eyes caught my attention the most; I'd never seen anything like them before...and the look unnerved me. She strode into the room with small, light steps, with the result that she almost seemed to float forward. She wore an abbreviated vest that left her midriff and arms mostly bare, and a long skirt-like thing over her boots and leggings. Gloves and elbow-guards lent to the mix of armed practicality and something like…style.

" _Ah...okay..._ " Hirosho stammered, backing away from The Sith, though remaining within capture range.

Motion caught my eye: The Sith apparently traveled in company, though the grey-uniformed Imperial said nothing, his presence like a stone, a failsafe in case anything beyond The Sith's control should occur. Everything about him exuded confidence that nothing was ever out of The Sith's control. Nothing. His eyes tracked her motion, alert for hints or clues.

I shivered. They're like...jackals.

" _You never told me we'd be tracking a_ Sith!" Hirosho hissed.

The Sith clicked her tongue. " _Tch, tch. That_ was _unkind._ "

It was, and agreeing with The Sith made me nervous.

"You were provided the details necessary to perform your duties. Now, please, remain quiet," Master Karr directed evenly, turning his attention towards The Sith, who continued lazily regarding him...like a cat looking at a fish in an aquarium. It can't get to the fish...but it would like to.

Suddenly, I knew without doubt that Hirosho and everyone on that station were dead. They simply hadn't fallen, yet. They'd been dead from the moment The Sith found the tracking device on her ship—or had it brought to her attention.

I glanced at Master Karr, glad that I was not in the projector's capture range. I was here to learn our enemy and to do so discreetly.

"Sith, I presume you are Darth Baras' new apprentice?"

Her mouth merely quirked to one side, as though that should be answer enough.

"I am Jedi Master Nomen Karr. Do you know me?"

" _And what would you say if I said I_ didn't _?_ " she asked casually. She licked her teeth visibly before tilting her head so she could address her Imperial without taking her eyes of Master Karr. " _What do you think, Quinn?_ Should _his reputation precede him?"_

" _Doubtful, my lord_ ,"the Imperial answered reservedly, " _Jedi rarely aspire to galaxy-wide recognition._ "

I shivered; there was cruel humor in his tone, though none of it on his face. The way he answered only at her prompting might make it seem as though he were pandering to her Sith requirement for backup...but there was something there that made me doubt this. No, I had the impression that he'd have given her the _truth_ , whether she agreed with it or not...and that when she'd asked, she'd asked because she already knew the answer...

...no. No, that's not it at all. And the idea only occurred to me when Master Karr stiffened. I'm not very good at reading auras, but it was hard to miss the faint sweep of irritation. Clearly The Sith wasn't taking this as seriously as it should be taken. She's got lightyears between Master Karr and herself and _no one_ to stop her if—when—she decides to slaughter the station personnel. She can bait and taunt and see what gets a reaction…even if that reaction is just an increase in calm presentation.

" _Hmm. That sounds like..._ pride," The Sith purred. " _Does it irritate you that I have only a_ vague _idea of who you are, Master Karr_?"she asked.

"Then feel flattered, Sith: I have a substantial view of who _you_ are," Master Karr responded. "Baras and I like to keep tabs on each other. When I heard he'd taken on a new apprentice, I investigated. These men," Master Karr gestured to Hirosho and his cohorts, "were merely monitoring the equipment. Following orders. There is no need for bloodshed."

The Sith's eyes swept the room. _"I'm not a military mind, but it seems to me that if they'd known they were tracking a Sith—_ especially _since you claim to know so much about me—they might have taken extra precautions against my showing up._ "

Her implication as clear: Master Karr knew less than he pretended or he'd have known she'd end up on Hirosho's station, sooner or later. And, knowing that, there should have been someone there to stop her.

" _Was it that you wished to preserve Jedi lives that you left these men so under-guarded? Or did you honestly think I would leave your assets alone, just because_ you _asked it of me_?" Her words had a hypnotic quality, and I found myself swallowing hard.

Master Karr did not oppose her...and his warning to Hirosho and his men to defend themselves was too slow...and sounded almost feeble in my ears...

The Sith exploded into action so quickly that I had trouble following how she managed so much carnage so quickly. Then again...Hirosho and his friends weren't Force-sensitive and they weren't armed.

The slaughter made me feel nauseous, as did the unruffled expression on The Sith's face when she returned to the holocall. She said nothing, merely stood there, an evil malignance until Master Karr spoke. "That was an excessive display," he said slowly.

 _"Excessive? If you_ wanted _a show of excess, Master Karr, you should have said so. I would have happily obliged._ "

If that wasn't excessive, I'd hate to see her idea of what is...

Master Karr ran over the callous words. "Those men were defenseless and unarmed..."

" _And_ you _left_ _them that way_ ,"The Sith responded viciously. "Knowing _that no Sith ever spared a life because a Jedi requested it._ You _left them vulnerable and unprotected,_ knowing _that no Sith could afford to leave such an observation post intact, leave the crew alive because they might know something that could inconvenience said Sith later._ You _put them in an ugly position, Master Karr,_ knowing _exactly how this must play out. Was their sacrifice worth it? Can you sleep with it on your soul_?"

My guts tightened at this very valid point. No one expects mercy from a Sith but I never expected a Sith to have a sense of pragmatism. Just bloodlust.

"That a Sith should speak of consciences and souls proves the weakness of your position," Master Karr retorted grimly. "And your sad attempt to deflect responsibility troubles me little: I shall honor Hirosho and his men's lives by dedicating myself to thwarting you and your master."

I blinked several times. For a moment, there was a roughness in Master Karr's voice I'd never heard there before.

" _You sound very passionate about the matter..._ angry _, even,_ " The Sith said softly.

I found myself agreeing with her. I'd never heard that tone in Master Karr's voice...and the thought that a mere Sith apprentice could bring it out...

"I have long been prepared for the possibility of my operation being discovered."

I opened my mouth, but shut it again. He... _expected_ something like this? And didn't prepare for it? Unease crept into me like a bad smell coming out of a refrigeration unit: she'd said as much, The Sith, that Master Karr had used those men to his advantage without giving proper thought to their safety and protection. He'd condemned them from the moment he put them on the task of observing The Sith.

I felt sicker, but for a new reason.

"It calms me to know that you and Darth Baras have no idea what you're up against."

Fear seized me, like a cold hand clenching around my stomach. For a moment, I thought Master Karr might insert me into the conversation.

The Sith saved him the trouble. " _Ah, yes, your little rabbit. Is she here? Is she listening?_ "

Little rabbit?! I glared at The Sith. Little rabbit, indeed.

"No, but your gift for conversation has been your undoing." Master Karr motioned her to turn around, which she did. Her Imperial soldier moved swiftly to one side, but he didn't draw his blaster. In fact, he seemed to resonate readiness, as if he had something up his sleeve...

...which, I realized, might very well be a literal thing.

"These men are among the Republic's finest. Go with them peacefully and the Jedi Council will take that into consideration."

" _You wanted a show of excess, Master Karr?_ " The Sith asked, as though offering him tea. A hint of a laugh, almost coquettish, tinged her voice. " _You shall have it._ "

"Men, take the Sith—" Master Karr didn't get any further.

I clamped both hands over my mouth to stifle the cry that tried to tear itself loose from my throat. The Sith suddenly made a leap in the direction of the soldiers sent to detain her, her Imperial moving out of capture range, but not before I understood what had happened in that first strike: she'd struck one of the Republic soldiers and he had ensured that that soldier couldn't do anything by sending a spray of carbonite at him from a wrist unit.

I know a thing or two about carbonite projectors: they don't work well if a target is moving around, but disabled...well, that would leave the poor soldier defenseless, to be dispatched of when the Imperial or The Sith could do so safely.

It was horrible to listen to: blaster fire, screams, and shouts from both sides seemed to go on forever. I recoiled from it, certain that The Sith was as good as her word. When Master Karr went to investigate the station he would find a true massacre, defaced bodies, and little else.

Everything went silent, then The Sith and her companion reappeared. He looked immaculate—which was exceptionally disconcerting, considering he'd just been in a life-or-death fight.

The Sith, on the other hand, looked...breathtaking, I suppose. She seemed irradiated, as if hooked up to a powerful generator. Energy seemed to crackle about her, and a wild abandon danced in her eyes. She was dripping in sweat, her whole body heaving as she breathed; she sported a burn or two, but otherwise seemed unharmed...and unhampered by her injuries.

She was victory in combat personified.

She walked over to the console, fiddled with it, and abruptly the capture range of the holoterminal expanded.

I looked away: even the color-stealing blue couldn't make the severed limbs, the huddled body parts, the carbon scoring, and the flickering remains of sensor equipment any less shocking. It looked, in that brief glimpse, as if she'd torn the room apart with the strength of the truly insane. And yet...when I ventured to glance back at her, she seemed wholly the master. Of herself. Of the carnage she'd wrought. Of everything.

Was it wrong to want to know how she did it? How she could be caught in the rush and yet still be so...anchored?

"I see Darth Baras has found himself a singularly vicious weapon in you," Master Karr said, his voice hard. "This experience has given me valuable insight. I'll be prepared the next time we meet, Sith."

" _Yes_ ," The Sith answered, her voice breathy but sturdy as she brought herself from active combat to simple readiness for combat. " _But will_ she _be_?" She cut the transmission, leaving Master Karr and I alone in silence.

I don't know if she knew I was there to hear the threat—because it _was_ a threat—or if she said it simply to unnerve Master Karr...or maybe she didn't care either way, so long as she had the last word. It didn't matter: I heard it, and I recoiled from it. Master Karr didn't matter to her—he was Darth Baras' enemy. I mattered; I was her target.

I remembered the furious leap that took her out of sight, the way she looked as she returned after the combat. I closed my eyes, willing myself not to be afraid...and failing spectacularly.

"Calm yourself, Jaesa," Master Karr declared sternly. "The Sith knows _nothing_. Otherwise, she would have identified you, to show how much she knew."

The question was insidious, and I couldn't stamp it out, even if I didn't ask it: Master...do _you_ know _her_ name? "Of course, Master," I managed, trying not to feel the prickle along my backbone, to ignore the cold sweat beading on my skin, making me feel clammy all over.

This Sith terrifies me in a way no Sith should. I am a _Jedi_...there is no fear...

...maybe if I run through the Code a few more times I'll stop feeling it. Because it _is_ there.


	2. Chapter 2

-Hella-

It was a relief to get out of Tatooine's suns. Despite the veiled robe I wore over my armor, I could feel my skin crisping. Bad enough to have the prison pallor of a Dromund Kaas native _and_ that of a redhead, but the effects of the Dark Side on one's skin makes a sunburn even more likely.

Perhaps Quinn will rub an appropriate lotion or ointment or whatever onto it if I play my cards right. I have to catch him in the right mood…and I doubt that will happen as long as we're on this overbaked rock.

I gave Quinn a sidelong look as we stepped into the Jedi's hut. _He_ had what, at first, looked like a Dromund Kaas complexion. To my disgust (and, for multiple reasons, to his benefit), it turned out that he tanned rather than burned. He looked good with a tan, although the pale flesh where his goggles usually rested looked a bit odd when the goggles were off.

Master Yonlach was not alone, meaning my first impression was of the young man with him. Younger than myself with horrendous sideburns (the likes of which would have earned the envy of some of Mother's acquaintances) the man seemed more muscles than mental prowess, his voice oddly high and soft for someone so large. He wore the neutral pallet of desert colors favored on Tatooine by natives, Jedi and smart Sith alike. It had only been Quinn's insistence that black robes would capture the heat far quicker than any other color that persuaded me into the sand-colored outer garment at all.

I felt like an overlarge, strangely-colored Jawa and it—like my sunburn—had done nothing for my sunny disposition.

"Master Yonlach!" the lad called, "The Sith you've been monitoring is upon us!"

I looked past him at the first sign of motion.

Coming from the other room was a Jedi that could only be Master Yonlach. He was thin, almost brittle looking, and ancient. Bald and browned to the color the little nuts Mother likes, his skin was cracked discolored in places by age. Despite his appearance, however, the Force was strong with him, as of it compensated for his physical decline—which, in all probability, it did. His presence as a Force-user was marked, pulled close and tight around him like a shell—further reinforcing my impressions of an old turtle.

Someone that made such ripples in the Force around him would be well up to feeling out where I was—especially if Nomen Karr told him he was being hunted. It would be a prudent thing to do and might explain the younger Jedi. Not a student but a bodyguard.

The Jedi Order could hardly have picked two more mismatched people to put together, I thought as I examined the younger Jedi's strong jaw and tousled brown hair.

"I am aware of it, Yul-Li," Master Yonlach noted dryly, his voice like sandpaper on the skin.

Yul-Li jumped as if not realizing his call would have actually summoned his master from the other room. "Master, retreat now. I will face this intr—" He lit up his lightsaber, and I barely refrained from lighting mine. My hands found them, though, and released the clips fastening them to my belt.

It spoke well, relatively speaking, that Master Yonlach was not going to make me run hither and thither through the desert in a desperate bid to escape. As long as he refrained, I promised myself not to draw out his death any longer than was absolutely necessary to get my point across.

"Peace," Master Yonlach intervened, his bright eyes studying first Quinn, then myself. "Come, stand at my side." He patted the desk behind which he had come to rest. He didn't sit, merely put its bulk between his camp and mine. "I shall face these trespassers."

Yul-Li, under my glare, moved to stand at his master's shoulder, dwarfing the other man and seeming so much bigger because of it. "You are a fascinating and contradictory example of your order," Master Yonlach noted conversationally. I could feel his Jedi fingers reaching out through the Force to study me, and in return forced my mind to focus on the rains of Dromund Kaas, thick and impenetrable. It's a low-level investigation and such a counter should be enough.

"Thank you," I answered, betraying none of the non-verbal, non-physical occurrences. It's true: the daughter of a minor Sith Lord and an old-moneyed aristocrat does make for an odd duck among the Sith. So many of the teachings of those two points of view are at odds. I like to think it makes me both versatile and unpredictable in how I respond to stimuli. Of course, it causes 'prove yourself' problems but contrary to popular belief, word gets around. Eventually.

The old man nodded, his aura slowly disappearing—an act of will on his part, probably expecting me to prod at him in turn—beneath the nervous fluttering of Yul-Li's nervousness. All this polite conversation chafed the young Jedi, making him restless. His restlessness made me irritable. I reached out for Quinn's aura, steady and, although keyed-up, grounding.

I mentally took a deep breath. The young Jedi may yet have a purpose, for this conversation, I cannot see. Patience. Both Sith and aristocrats need it. It is no shame to wait as long as waiting does not become simple inaction. Baras has patience by the bucket and, whatever faults I find with the man, it serves him well.

"I know who you are and why you are here," Master Yonlach continued. "Master Karr's Padawan. She threatens your master is some way and you seek to flush her out into the open and silence her."

He was tactful in not giving me even her name. Then again, he's been warned, after all.

"You see it correctly. Mostly correctly. She's no good to anyone dead," I noted blandly.

Master Yonlach snorted, his aura becoming pronounced with distaste before disappearing again behind the stifled outrage of his bodyguard. "As I thought," he grimaced. "I will not allow it, nor will I be the cause of her exposure."

I smiled in the face of his displeasure. "You can't help it, Jedi. It had to be you. You know that. And you know why."

The Jedi's expression twisted further. "I assume you mean the bond we struck, master to student. You're well versed in things your Order knows little about."

My mouth curved into a smile as I double checked the dimensions of the room, the placement of the furniture, things of which I would need to be aware when the fight broke out. "Don't be so certain, Master Yonlach. I highly doubt the Sith are studied very accurately by your Order—you know little of the Korriban curriculum."

"Sith simply need to drag out what they know by force," Yul-Li growled.

I chuckled, waving vaguely, feeling the way the casual dismissal of anything he had to say rankled the young Jedi.

"It is, of course, academic. Your trip here was a waste of time and effort," Master Yonlach declared. "I have already warned her about you. She will not fall for your manipulations."

The air in the room seemed to thicken: nerves from Quinn and Yul-Li, a strange kind of flatness from Master Yonlach.

"You're right," I agreed before adding wickedly, "She'll dive in headfirst."

Quinn's amusement was like a flare. That cunning, inquisitive mind of his could hardly not be interested in watching such games of subtlety. Foolish of me, perhaps, to be so pleased to give him such insight into the mysteries of the Sith.

Master Yonlach snorted, his nostrils flaring at the naiveté of invincible youth. "Your will is great," he allowed. Then, in a harder tone, "But hers is greater. And mine is _unrelenting_. In me you face a full Jedi master." My guts clenched with anticipation of it. "And Yul-Li has greater command of lightsaber combat than any Jedi Knight I've trained."

Quinn snorted softly, his aura quivering like a plucked string. He's seen me fight often enough to appreciate the skill behind it. My ego purred: it's nice to have one's combat ability appreciated on the aesthetic level, too. Especially since I spend so much time fighting to begin with.

Yul-Li's aura flared as he gave Quinn a withering look. I couldn't see it, but I could easily imagine the slight smirk the Captain returned.

Master Yonlach studied Quinn for a moment. "It is strange to see such devotion in a Sith's servant; it is a sign of self-loathing, I think."

Quinn's perplexity bubbling at my shoulder was short-lived.

" **Sleep.** "

I couldn't do anything to stop Master Yonlach from incapacitating Quinn. The good captain might be proof against most low-level mind tricks, but I don't think I'd reasonably expect anyone _not_ Force sensitive to withstand such a maneuver. I felt it ripple in the air around him for a moment before taking its effect.

As Quinn crumpled to the ground, his aura flat-lining into sleep, I sprang into action, using the Force to slam Yonlach with his own desk. The desk carried the old man all the way back to the wall, resulting in a yelp of genuine, sharp pain—borne out by a spike in his aura.

Yul-Li's cry on his master's behalf was no more unexpected than his lunge at me, lightsaber burning.

Master Yonlach had not exaggerated: Yul-Li was a competent swordarm even by my exacting standards.

Unfortunately for him, I'd been using a lightsaber since I was fourteen and training for one since I was old enough to hold a practice sword without dropping it. He had nowhere near that length of time to learn and perfect himself.

Unfortunately for me, it was one against two and both of them fellow Force-users. Master Yonlach got himself out from behind the desk and entered the fray.

I was alright as long as I could keep them both in front of me—that is to say visible—but while Yul-Li was all about frontal attack, Master Yonlach kept trying to slip into my blind spots while I focused on his bodyguard.

Quinn saved my life (albeit inadvertently). I thought I had clearance to step over him but didn't. I turned the stumbling into a fall in time to see Yul-Li's lightsaber arc over my head at what had been chest-level. My new position, ungraceful as it was, gave me an opening.

I reached out through the Force and threw him bodily in the direction from which Master Yonlach's aura came.

Master Yonlach didn't react quickly enough to save himself being slammed into by Yul-Li—I know I heard ribs crack—the two of them collapsing to the ground in a heap. I raised a hand and Yul-Li's lightsaber—Master Yonlach's grip on his own was too tight for the low-level _pull_ to deprive him of it—flew into my waiting grip.

For a moment, the only sound was Master Yonlach's heavy, uneven breathing as Yul-Li hurriedly and dazedly disentangled himself from the old Jedi. Another moment passed, during which Yul-Li alternated between watching me and checking his master's ribs. Several must have broken because a spasm of concern flickered across his face and his aura yelped in distress. I lifted my lightsaber, more for show than with intent to use it. Yul-Li's dedication to his master is great. I can feel it. He would break long before Master Yonlach would and, therein, lies his value to me. I'll use him like a wedge.

He may even know something useful and let it slip along the way. Not that this would change the outcome any.

I glanced down at Quinn, thinking hard about the rains of Dromund Kaas to obscure anything that might slip. I resisted the urge to check that he was alright and none the worse for having me trip over and land on him—he was breathing and seemed to be in no pain.

Yul-Li's eyes were fixed on the lightsabers humming in my hands and the smirk on my face. He'd avoided any serious damage, but had several minor wounds, two of which were environmentally inflicted and which bled nastily. "Wait! Wait, Sith!" he called, holding up his empty hands in a placating gesture.

I took two more steps to make my point: I stopped at my discretion, not at his whimpering.

"Stay your weapons I—"

"Yul-Li, stay your _tongue_!" Master Yonlach snapped, an edge of real worry in his aura.

Ah. I'm not the only one who knows the boy is a weak link.

"No, master!" Yul-Li appealed to him, "she is just a Padawan and you are a great master!" Yul-Li turned his big cow-eyes on me. "Spare Master Yonlach, and I'll tell you what you want to know."

I nodded once.

"Yul-Li!" The old man was much wiser and far less trusting than his stupid attendant.

"Her name is Jaesa Willsaam—"

Master Yonlach grunted, the Force rippling around him. I didn't hear the distortion in his tone but I'm sure Yul-Li did. I certainly felt the distortion in the Force, the way it twisted and seemed to draw towards Yul-Li. " **Yul-Li. You have no information on the Padawan this Sith seeks.** "

Yul-Li wobbled on his knees, blinking stupidly. "I…have no information on the Padawan you seek, Sith…" he answered drunkenly, the Force around him settling out again into its usual ever present ebb and flow.

" **Sleep** ," Master Yonlach prompted, scowling at me.

Yul-Li's eyes rolled, then he flopped down, pinning Master Yonlach again. The old man grunted, his aura constricting with pain as he struggled to free himself.

I lifted a hand and casually flicked Yul-Li off his master and onto the floor within easy strike distance of myself.

Panting, Master Yonlach regained his feet. He had his lightsaber in hand but did not ignite it. I think that last crushing weight took something out of him, for the weapon hung loose, as if forgotten and held only out of habit. His bright eyes pinned me with a disdaining glare. "It's unfortunate Yul-Li's feelings got the better of him."

"It is unfortunate your feelings got the better of you," I responded. With a quick twist, the Force curled around my hand and around Yul-Li's neck. The sound of breaking bones as I twitched my fist made Master Yonlach flinch. "And he couldn't even rise to defend himself."

Master Yonlach's lip curled, and his eyes darted to Quinn.

"Come now, Jedi, we both know that's not going to happen. You already know how this ends."

"Indeed I do," he answered with a sigh. "It's unfortunate for you: I do not fear death. Thus does your sport lose some of its amusement. I shall go calmly and Jaesa shall feel the serenity in my passing. There is no death. There is only the Force."

I chuckled softly. "Oh, Jedi. Do you think I'd allow a serene passing? You share, as you have unwisely confirmed for me, a special sort of bond. I _intend_ her to know who killed you. I _intend_ her to know both my face and my deeds. Let us begin, yes?"

* * *

-Jaesa-

I awoke with a yelp, a yelp that gave way to an anguished scream which I tried to muffle in my pillow. Pain pulsed through me, an echo of someone else's. There were no words, there was little direction in the feedback…but I understood enough, understood that the blunt stream of images, thoughts, and feelings was all Master Yonlach could do—and that he had no control over them.

He was under attack and could no longer maintain the barriers in his mind that would have kept his private life or sufferings from disturbing me.

The Sith had found him, and she was foremost in his mind.

"Jaesa? Jaesa, what is it?" Master Karr demanded, trying to shake me into full wakefulness. He must have heard me cry out.

"It's… _her_ …" I managed, tears streaming down my face as Master Yonlach's attempt to dampen our bond were suddenly torn completely away. His scream of sheer agony cut my mind, the pain lancing my nerves…and for a moment _she_ stood over us both, lightsaber glowing in one hand, the Force shuddering about her. Master Yonlach could feel it, so for the moment I could, too. She seemed to burn in the Force, burn in Master Yonlach's mind, burn in mine.

But her power was contained, held rigidly in check except for an outermost layer that seethed and roiled. I never expected that kind of control from a Sith. They're supposed to be raging, unstable, ultimately self-destructive since they're slaves to their emotions. I…didn't get that impression from The Sith.

Her mouth moved slowly, as if she knew I was watching, knew I would not hear _words_ , but would see her quite clearly: ' _Jaesa_.'

Everything stopped. Suddenly, everything just _stopped_. The pain vanished. The screams vanished. The Sith vanished, leaving only the empty, broken end of a Force bond suddenly severed. Because those bonds don't just go away when the other person dies. The bond persists…it's just attached to nothing. It waved there, in my mind, like a frayed-to-pieces ribbon on the wind. My mind felt suddenly empty, but my impressions of her seemed burned into my mind with everything else.

I shivered, sobbing unrestrainedly, partly for poor Master Yonlach…partly for Yul-Li, who would have died before he let The Sith take one step towards Master Yonlach…and partly because I couldn't understand how a person could become so twisted…and yet be so very, very strong. Unbreakable. Unflinching. Powerful but not being eaten alive by it.

Isn't that what Sith are? Monsters made by using power they don't have the capacity to handle safely, being devoured by that which they claim to master? Because that was _not_ what I perceived through Master Yonlach's dying moments.

"He's dead," I babbled to Master Karr, hoping to find reassurance in his face, "she-she killed Master Yonlach! She _tortured_ him and the minute she had a—she thought I would perceive her…she killed him! Just-just snuffed him right out!"

Yul-Li was a brilliant fighter—Master Yonlach, everyone said so! And she cut through him! She had to have done! Him and Master Yonach _both_!

Which, even though my terror made little sense. Once Master Yonlach couldn't shield me anymore…I'd have _felt_ his agony more strongly, been more aware of his pain…but she hadn't exploited that weakness. She'd simply exposed it, said her piece—' _Jaesa'_ —then put Master Yonlach out of his misery. Brisk, quick, efficient.

Sith are, so my impressions ran, sadistic at best. Why wasn't she?

The memory of the way her painted mouth moved in the silent call made me convulse violently. I didn't realize Master Karr had left, until a sharp pain in my arm and a flood of something cold told me he'd fetched a sedative, something to help calm me down…

…because an attack like the one I'd just suffered…it's not like any other sort of assault. It's not something that can be fought. It has to be borne. Tolerated until it can be diffused.

"She's not going to stop," I whispered as drug-calm filled my mind, "she's _never_ going to stop."

"She'll _be_ stopped," Master Karr assured me, smoothing my hair paternally. "I will stop her myself. Her actions simply show how desperate she and Darth Baras are. Sith do terrible things when cornered."

I looked up at him and spoke, but the voice didn't seem to be mine. "She's not desperate, Master. She thinks she in full control of _everything_." I don't know how I knew it, I didn't want to know how I knew it, but I knew it, all the same.

"She _thinks_ she is," Master Karr reiterated. "That doesn't make it so."

I closed my eyes, tried to squelch my emotions with more fervor and desperation than at any point in my life. He can believe she's not…but that doesn't make it so, either. I know what this is…it's a systematic attack…on everything…everyone I…care about…


	3. Chapter 3

-Jaesa-

It was a matter of time, and I knew it.

Master Karr gained one thing from poor Hirosho's encounter with The Sith: the name of her ship—the _Astral Blight—_ and a way to contact her if he wanted to. He must intend, sooner or later, to do so, call her out, put a stop to this madness…so why hasn't he _done_ it?

I withdrew to my quarters, a holorecorder in one hand, my heart pounding like a drum. I set it down, stepped into the capture range, and addressed my reflection in the mirror on my wall.

I've discovered it's easier to record a message if I'm looking at a sentient's face—even if it's only my own reflection. "Sith. I am Jaesa Willsaam. My master, Nomen Karr, has no idea I'm recording this message." Would she even believe that? Well…she's always seemed rather direct, so maybe that will work for me. Direct and confident.

Right. Yeah.

"Let's be real, we both know this isn't about us. Our masters pretend otherwise, but this _is_ personal." It's not a lie, either. I don't like to admit it, but I think Master Karr is more…driven than dedicated…when it comes to eradicating—should I even use that word?—this 'Darth Baras' character. "You and I are only pawns in their private war and those I care about are caught in the middle. It has to stop." My thoughts began to bog down, as the enormity of what I'm about to do set in. I'm about to give Master Karr the slip, put myself in a room with that…that… _creature_ …and try to stop her. I don't know how yet…

I forced myself to go on. Confidence and directness. "I appreciate directness. Your brutal actions have my attention, but this passive-aggressive foolishness is intolerable. This message includes coordinates where I'll be waiting in my shuttle." I can add those later, once I've decided where the best place is…or if I'm going to actually send this. "Let's discuss this face-to-face. No more nonsense." I exhaled deeply, turned off the recorder and picked it up.

Direct and confident. Anything more and I'll end up rambling and _show_ my nerves.

"Jaesa!" I jumped, dropped the holorecorder to find Master Karr standing in the doorway, looking startled. "What is this foolishness?"

"I-I just…I just…" I waved the holorecorder vaguely, trying to think up something to say and stammering all the while. As Master Karr started to scowl, I caved. There wasn't much else I could so. "This can't go on, Master."

Master Karr, mouth thin, walked up to me and gently took the holorecorder. "Jaesa, that animal is _expecting_ you to do something like this. She's playing with you, can't you see that?"

"It's a risk, I know, but—"

"Your training isn't complete. She'll destroy you."

"It's possible, but maybe—" My resolve melted under his displeasure. A surge of resentment flared: at least _I'm_ doing something _constructive_! But the flare died out; Jedi are supposed to be calm…untouchable…but I know where this is going. With her, I mean.

"Jaesa, I know Darth Baras. I know him better than most, and when I called his apprentice an animal, I meant it—he wouldn't have any other kind of person working for him. You've seen what she's capable of."

"Which is why we have to _stop_ her before…before…" My voice locked up, sickness welling in my stomach. "Master…"

"Before your parents get hurt," Master Karr finished gently, giving voice to my deep fear…and looking a little testy. It was made clear to me that I'm old for being trained as a Jedi, that children are usually separated from their families early so the parent-child bond isn't as strong…can't be used against them. I never appreciated the sheer common sense of this until now. "I have taken precautions, Jaesa. Did you think I'd leave them on their own?"

Like you left Hirosho? Or Master Yonlach? Defended but under-defended?

I capped the thought. A thought like that can ferment and grow…ugly.

Despite my attempts to dismiss it, it hung in my mind like a bad smell in my nose.

"No, no of course not, I just thought that maybe…If I could _see_ what motivates her…I might…might…if-if we could turn her, if-if there was a way…she'd be formidable…" I was babbling, and knew I was babbling.

"Jaesa, there is _no_ turning an animal like that. She's a lost creature and I won't have you throwing yourself at her." He frowned at the holorecorder.

"I thought no one was beyond reach." Well, I always withhold the Emperor from 'no one.' The man's been so evil for so long…and I don't doubt multiple people have tried—and failed—to bring him around. At least, I agree with the loud-mouthed Mirialan and her quieter twin, in that respect.

Master Karr took a deep breath. "You're right, of course. Jaesa, I have an idea—"

I didn't frown as he explained a plot to send my message to The Sith, in hopes of luring her to a battleground of his choosing. I didn't like it, but I let him talk me into it.

Was it cowardice? Because The Sith terrifies me…and I know she'd want to talk to me. And I'm not so sure I want to hear what she's got to say…and _that_ worries me.


	4. Chapter 4

-Hella-

The slash General Gesselle's knife left across my belly ached and burned by turns, the flesh pulling uncomfortably with evert twist or contortion combat required. I sucked up the pain as best I could, knowing that if Quinn pointed out that an abbreviated vest was not a tactically sound wardrobe choice for someone like me I was going to throw a hissy fit because A) he was probably right and B) I didn't want to damage him. My one bit of luck was his ability as a medic: the wound wasn't bleeding all over the place which was, perhaps, why it pulled and tugged so much.

I did feel a bit disappointed that the General had to die, however. Maybe, in a way, I didn't begrudge her the monument carved into my flesh the way I would have were it someone else who left it there. The only aristocrat on this foul planet worth the air she was breathing and she just had to be on the wrong side of me.

I hate this planet: Alderaan is just Nar Shaddaa with frilly clothes, frilly food and attempts at frilly manners. They're bloated decorative fish pretending at being sharks with no one present to or capable of contradicting them.

I didn't bother sparing myself the theatrics. When I reached the last door between me and my quarry, I used the Force to blast it open. The doors hung cockeyed on their great hinges, the violence of the entrance seeming to have taken even the Jedi protector off his guard. An ugly silence fell in the wake of the crashing of those doors, a silence so profound the only sound for a few moments was the tap-tap of Quinn's and my boots against the sparklingly clean floor.

One Jedi. Against _me_. I'm disappointed on a personal level but it plays into my hands, this lack of proper security. The goons with their guns did not bother me at all. When I kill Jaesa's parents, she'll find out—sooner or later—that Nomen Karr thought them worth only one Jedi Knight. Big and strapping he may be—that seems to be the desirable mold among Jedi these days—but my kill count is not unimpressive.

Wounds stinging as sweat trickled into them, I found myself almost growling, rage pulsing around me. I hope this concludes soon. I'm growing weary of stupidity and half-baked gestures.

I will freely admit that, on Dromund Kaas, I indulged in sharpening my claws on those less able than myself. Among socialites, such is the game that is played and, as an accomplished player, I found few to be my equal. It's like they're not even trying which, while working to further my own goals, is rather insulting.

I looked at the room's two older occupants. They stood close together, behind and to the right of the Jedi, partially screened from view. The woman seemed stonily terrified, her husband liquefying with fear. Jaesa's parents, then. Right where they should be.

I gave my main-hand lightsaber a twirl, watching as the Jedi's eyes followed the red blade's progress. "Well," I noted into the silence, "here we all are. At long last."

The Jedi glared, his aura strangely flat and unpleasant in its flatness. It reminded me of Master YOnlach, but inferior to that master's. Clearly someone needs practice.

Jaesa's parents, however, made up for his reserve. Their fear and anguish roiled around the room, thick and oily, sliding against my perceptions unpleasantly.

Jaesa's father gaped at me past his protector's shoulder. "I didn't think one assailant…" he looked around as if trying to calculate how many people I had to kill to get here, with only one major wound—already treated and clearly predating my incursion—to show for it. And even that wound didn't do much more than make me angry.

I immersed myself in the anger, let the oily slide of fear glance off of it.

The Jedi raised his lightsaber as I began prowling a line across part of the room. "I warn you, Sith, you will not harm Parvan and Gregor Willsaam. I have sworn it." He sounded so sure that this piddly little oath actually _meant_ something in the grand scheme of things that I wanted to laugh humorlessly.

"And your oaths have what to do with me?" I asked, not bothering to mask my crankiness. I wanted this over with. I was so thoroughly sick of Jedi by this point that if I had to listen to one more speech or grand gesture from one I was going to give way to behavior unbecoming.

"Please, wait," Jaesa's father intervened.

His Jedi meat-shield turned to give him his attention, but the Jedi didn't take his eyes off me. A wise course of action, overall. "Go ahead."

"If we are really the cause of all this death I-I want to know _why_ ," the old man bleated.

The Jedi glared at me.

"Surely you've told them?" I inquired of him, ignoring Jaesa's father. His quavering tone grated on my ears and, as a result, on my fraying patience. And after this foolishness, there's another conversation with Duke Kendoh and his horsey laugh.

I despise this planet. And when my business in Castle Organa is concluded, I'm going to find a reason to test Baras' repeated promises of impunity in how I deal with enemies and allies. I'm sure I can find a reason to kill that foul little man and I doubt his Sith 'protectors' will lift a finger on his behalf.

"So it _is_ about Jaesa," Jaesa's mother addressed the Jedi, confirming that he hadn't told them much about what was happening.

"Very much so," I answered as neutrally as I could. I watched the Jedi's lightsaber for a moment longer before igniting one of mine.

The Willsaams flinched, though the Jedi stood his ground, content at the moment to menace and be menaced.

The fastest way to kill them is to snap their necks, as I did with Yul-Li. This cocky Jedi is so busy watching me for cues of physical attack—a spring, a leap, a thrown lightsaber—that he's not expecting anything else.

"Please, no more bloodshed!" Jaesa's father continued to bleat, "If there's something you want from us, I'm willing to listen!"

Jaesa's mother was wiser by far. "Gregor. The only thing this Sith wants from us is our lives."

"Give the woman a prize," I purred, "It must be you from whom Jaesa gets her Force sensitivity."

I listened impassively as Jaesa's mother began to babble, the plans they'd had for their daughter, the plans they'd so nobly given up to allow her to join the ranks of the Jedi. I certainly felt no upwelling of sympathy, though the information was useful in its way. It unlocked a little the kind of life Jaesa led.

She's used to being treated as a commodity: first as a servant, then as a means for her parents to elevate their status, then as Nomen Karr's magic baton for finding out Sith. She's been in someone else's power all her life, had her decisions made for her. However gracefully she may have bent to these circumstances, surely she's tired of the loop in which she's caught.

"We were told we'd probably never see her again," Jaesa's father concluded. "What else could you possibly want from us?"

Clearly he wasn't listening to his wife.

I had just opened my mouth to speak when my holocommunicator off. The sound was oddly cheerful in the thick air. I ignored it as best I could, a new vein of rage—this one fueled by embarrassment—surging up, hot and sickening in my chest.

"You're not going to get that?" the Jedi asked, mock solicitously.

The list of people who tried calling me was short. "It will keep," I gritted out.

The list of people who tried calling me with that amount of persistence was shorter.

"Are you certain? It sounds important and I can wait."

I ignored the Jedi's jeering and activated the comm. To my inward horror, none other than Darth Baras was on the line. " _Apprentice. So kind of you to take my call,_ " he declared testily.

"Forgive me, my master, but I shall have to call you back." He's going to go ballistic over this. I just know it. Thank goodness I'm about a minute away from completing his objective—he's too pragmatic to stay angry as long as I do my job. I hope he is.

It was this knowledge, coupled with the Jedi's smug expression and the pain burning along my belly, that fueled the savage attack that left both the Willsaams dead before the Jedi even realized I'd moved against them.

* * *

-Jaesa-

I lurched violently, as if someone had just stabbed me in the guts, once, twice, over and over again. The pain only lasted seconds of reality, but for me, it was forever. I came back to myself in tears, kneeling in the shower, aware that I'd thrown up everything I'd ever eaten, and still trying to dry heave.

I didn't need to see The Sith to know what she'd done.

My parents were…dead.

I should never have let Master Karr talk me out of meeting with The Sith. If I'd gone to her…I felt so sure she'd want to talk to me, that if I'd just come out of hiding that she wouldn't have felt compelled to go after my parents.

This…this was my fault.

I thought Master Karr had them protected…and I had to wonder whether he really cared at all about me…because all this time it's been about not letting precious Jaesa's precious power fall into the evil clutches of Darth Baras.

What about poor Jaesa being picked apart at the seams until there's nothing left to hold her together?

I should have been there. If I couldn't stop her, the least I could do would be to throw myself on her lightsaber…no one else, myself included, would have to suffer, that way.

I stayed in the shower until the water ran cold, until I shook with it, trying to fight off the dark thoughts and slimy fears trying to claw their way to the surface of my mind. It wasn't until Master Karr banged on the door, demanding to know if I was hurt that I reacted, without thinking.

"They're _dead_!" I screamed. "They're dead and it's your fault! It was Hirosho and that station all over _again_! Just-just leave me alone!" I choked down a more personal comment to that effect, but only because I burst into tears all over again.

To his credit, Master Karr did just that.

* * *

Author's Note: for those wondering, Gesselle tried to knife Hella, using that 'oh, Blenks, my love!' dialogue to present a show of weakness in hopes of getting a blow in if the Sith decided on death-by-lightsaber. One last, praiseworthy attempt to stop the Sith even though everyone else was already dead.


	5. Chapter 5

-Hella-

What met my eyes was not what I expected—but I can't say a pair of strapping Jedi Knights truly surprised me. Jedi are horrible liars; if Nomen Karr caught wind of Jaesa's plan to confront me, he would have put a stop to it.

And, by extension, try to put a stop to me. He must have great faith in these two knights.

I found I didn't share it.

"Well, well, well," smirked the slighter of the two—the one like a severed electrical cable—examining me with pointed interest. His eyes lingered on the scar General Gesselle left. "Looks like we'll have to thank Master Karr, after all: the Sith showed."

"Stand down, Sith," the larger one declared, holding up a hand as if he could stop my progression.

I'd already stopped, bringing us all three within strike distance of one another, close enough for me to feel their auras more clearly. The one was, indeed, disgustingly docile with that nasty, flat aura I was coming to expect of Jedi—a bland thing, like the tasteless crackers Mother used to feed me when I was ill as a child. The other, though, his aura rippled and flickered, had something to it of a butterfly trying to escape a glass jar.

My guts tightened with anticipation: Baras warned me not to try breaking a Jedi unless I was absolutely sure I could do it. And yet…the temptation to try, on this one if not on the other…it's overwhelming.

I'll have to sound him out a bit. "Quinn, hang back a little. I'd like some elbow room."

His aura stiffened with apprehension, but he put himself at a distance of some three meters. Close enough to the enemy for accurate shooting, far enough back to be considered 'out of range' by these Jedi. The calm one seemed interested in Quinn. The other…I had his complete attention.

And interest. He might have fought Sith before but not, perhaps, a Sith like myself.

"I take it Nomen Karr caught wind of poor Jaesa's plans and sent you instead?" I asked simply, adjusting one of my gloves. The scars of _Dahdee_ 's* school of training showed pale on my arm and made me smirk inwardly. An aristocrat might never show her scars but a Sith certainly may if she chooses. Those elbow gloves are more uncomfortable than one might expect.

"That is so," replied the bigger of the two.

"It's not your day," the smaller chuckled, shaking his head in a cheerfully condescending fashion. Pride. Arrogance. All suppressed, all fermenting. Surely, relying on my empathy, I could drag those out into the light of day… "You were expecting one lowly little Padawan to crush…and you get two Jedi Knights, instead."

"Two _Jedi_? Are you _quite_ certain of your count?" I asked delicately, giving him my attention again. My heart sped up with excitement. I've always wondered what it would be like to try a battle of wills of this nature…I wonder how it will go.

A flash of irritation, fear. He worried I might see to his core, to the reason he enjoyed this sort of assignment: license to be proud, to feel superior, to _feel_ in general. The stymying restrictions were supposedly lifted when dealing with Sith, the Jedi's mortal enemy.

I chuckled. "Never mind, never mind. You'll do fine, I'm sure. I adore crushing your kind."

"Then we have something in common," came the smaller one's sullen response. But my words had unnerved him, even if his peer didn't understand how or why. The big hulk is, I think, a cookie-cutter sort of Jedi. He thinks the way he's been taught and can't imagine utilizing his own mind to find his own prerogatives and perceptions.

Such a good little drone, I'm sure.

"The first of many things, I'm certain," I murmured, the words of the larger fellow failing to mask my remark.

The speaker merely identified himself—as Ulldin and his cohort as Zylixx—before offering the standard entreaty of surrender and promise of clemency.

He didn't realize it, but he was being ignored for the most part. I begin to suspect this Ulldin is some sort of junior knight, out being taught to hunt in the wider galaxy by this Zylixx character.

"Of course," Zylixx added, "we have yet to encounter a Sith who had the sense to surrender. You all seem bent on having us destroy you." Spoken with a smug calm, a hope to intimidate…but there was _doubt_ , like the smell of sewage on Hutta, perceptible even when all the air is foul.

"Admit it, Zylixx," I purred, catching a hitch in his aura that wasn't anger. "You'd be disappointed if I did." Fear began to rise in him, fear and anger because of the fear and anger because of the anger and fear of the anger, all fermenting beautifully, slowly, in an ever narrowing spiral.

Rather than feel the sympathetic twinges I'm used to…I don't know how to describe it. I found myself feeling powerful, strong, as I felt his emotions twist and knot. Strangely, unusually, I felt no personal discomfort. Perhaps enjoyment of the process shielded me from these sympathetic twinges that have plagued me so often and for so long.

"Not at all," Ulldin protested, again missing the fact that his words were just a backdrop to a battle already going on. One he should not be oblivious to: his friend is falling into dire straits and he doesn't even see it. "We don't go around picking fights," he added sanctimoniously.

I'm…sorry. Is this a schoolyard or a battlefield? The response was so… _juvenile_ …that Quinn's bemused indignation flared behind me, unusually sharp. I shared it.

"I wouldn't trust it if a Sith surrendered," Zylixx returned, "I prefer the surety of death."

I laughed at this, a rich sound that bubbled up from my very toes, which caused a ripple of fear through Ulldin—who probably realized, by now, that there was a problem—and a less definite shiver through Zylixx. "Aha! Keep thinking like that and you'll fall to the Dark Side before you know it."

A cloud crossed Zylixx's face and aura. "Shut your mouth…" came the slow, decisive answer. 'Denial' I believe is the colloquial term for it.

Ulldin shook his head. "Zylixx, remain calm. This Sith is just trying to unbalance you." Which only incensed his peer further. "Don't let this get under your skin.

"I'm already under his skin," I responded, lowering my voice, holding Zylixx's gaze. "Zylixx knows the truth: I think he wants to fall. I'll be your excuse. Gladly."

Behind me, Quinn's aura rippled with lively interest…and a kind of attraction, the kind of fascination one feels watching a cat tormenting a mouse. Goodness knows I'd be glad to give him a good show.

"Liar!" Zylixx exploded, staking an aggressive step forward. Ulldin shot out a hand, caught his friend by the shoulder, but Zylixx shook him off. "I am not _weak_ like you…" But there was something in his aura, something dark. Desire for the forbidden—oh, not for _me_ , necessarily. I'm simply conveniently placed in this matter. Jedi envy Sith freedom—such as it is—whether they admit it or not. I represent that. "We simply meet force with force!"

"You are already my brother…but perhaps I shouldn't use that term? It's on your face, Zylixx—you hate me, you hate what I represent. You hate all that you want but cannot have, everything that the Order denies you every single day…"

Ulldin's fear was palpable, but he didn't seem to know what to do.

Zylixx seemed paralyzed, mesmerized.

"Do you think I cannot see it? I'm not as ignorant as your friend, there—I know what that burning look actually is. I sense your jealousy—jealousy of the freedom my life permits." Cold fear pierced Zylixx's aura, but the burn of hatred pushed it back. I chuckled again, low, seductive even, "You'd like to hurt me…but only so you hear me scream. Your Order wouldn't condone my name on your lips in any other way, would they?"

"I will not stand here and be insulted like that—" Zylixx began.

I jumped in before he finished speaking, "If it's true then there is no insult. I know 'want' when I see it. And we always want that which is forbidden to us. There's no shame in admitting it."

Quinn's aura prickled uncomfortably. It's true, the words were directed at Zylixx…but some of them were for him, I suppose. He suffers many of the same…difficulties…as Jedi do.

"Zylixx—" Ulldin began, seeking to calm his enraged comrade.

"No!" I felt the snap like a physical blow, a slap to the face that brought on an unexpected bout of hysterical laughter, the kind of laugh one gives when one has just passed through a dangerous situation unscathed.

"Come at me, 'Jedi!'" I jeered, voice losing all softness. "Shuck the pretenses and save yourself!"

He did, jumping into the fray with a speed I hadn't expected. Nevertheless, I'm no apprentice swordsman, and his strength advantage was not as formidable as Ulldin might have been—and Quinn was in Ulldin's way almost as soon as Zylixx jumped at me. He seemed to have been waiting for this, understanding that I required no help with Zylixx, but would prefer to keep my attention on one foe. From the sounds, it seems as though Quinn was simply using blaster fire to hold Ulldin's attention.

My battle covered ground, first one way, then another, Zylixx throwing anything he could reach through the Force at me, regardless of whether it landed in Ulldin's way. I think that was how Quinn took Ulldin down so quickly, for I felt the 'pop' in the force that signaled Ulldin's death.

"Why are you still fighting? Do you wish me to kill you?" I hissed the next time we came into close contact, "Maim you? Am I to save your pride as I give you a reason to cross over?"

"I will _never_ fall!" Zylixx screamed, aura pulsing and straining.

"You've already fallen!" I shouted back, throwing him away from me with a _push_. He staggered, tripped over one of the objects he'd slammed around early on—I didn't pause to see what it was—and hit the ground. I ripped his lightsaber away from him, stood over him, the tip of one blade inches from his throat. "I have no desire to kill you. But if you're too much a coward to live with the truth…I suppose I could be talked into it," I hissed.

He reached out a hand, slowly, as if hoping I would miss the motion. His fingers twitched as he sought to inch his lightsaber closer to him.

It's this last stubborn little bit…some part of his is still clinging. "Do you know what you've done?" I asked softly. "Your thrashing earlier set the stage for Ulldin's death. Tell me, were you truly that friendly with him? Or did you find his sanctimonious preaching as disgusting and boring as I did?"

"…why…would you ask me about that…?" Zylixx panted, his expression slipping slightly as fear crept in behind his eyes.

"Because, Zylixx," I breathed, "he tripped over your flotsam and right into the good Captain's waiting blaster fire. I thought your disregard for Ulldin's safety sprung from some…unvoiced disgust."

So close…he's so close to breaking. I can _feel_ it deep in my marrow.

That last little shred of stubbornness won the day. Zylixx dragged his lightsaber over to him, only to have mine cleave through his neck.

"Damn," I announced flatly, the tide of excitement with which I'd risen letting down like a punctured weather balloon. "What a waste." The thwarted success left me irritable, unreasonable, and looking for some way to vent the frustration.

Quinn strode over, frowning at the corpse. "You nearly had him," he remarked.

I bit back a sharp retort. "Yes, nearly. I won't make the same mistakes in future." I don't think I could articulate for a non-Sensitive what those mistakes were, but looking back…I could see them, as though they glowed under a blacklight.

"It's a formidable task. I hope I'm there to see it."

"Is that part of my cruel streak truly so appealing?" I asked, somewhat mollified by the obscure compliment, sliding both lightsaber hilts into their holders.

Quinn's mouth twitched, the way it does when he's extricating himself from some sticky situation. "It is always appealing to watch an artist at work; even if the medium is somewhat…unconventional."

"Ah, Quinn," I chuckled, feeling his aura shudder nervously within its confines, "you come up with the nicest compliments I've ever heard. I _wish_ you would let me reciprocate."

He didn't touch the remark, not with a five-meter pole, but as he cleared his throat I caught a faint ripple of something in the direction of pleasure at the remark. Pleasure and curiosity…but he wasn't willing to voice the curiosity, so I let him deal with it on his own.

* * *

-Jaesa-

The Sith was on a roll. Within a small window of time after killing my parents, she killed both of the Jedi Master Karr sent to intercept her.

And it looked like she'd managed to turn one of them just before she killed him. A piece of proof lying on the ground that until she had what she wanted, she would keep going, and going. Never stopping. Death was bad enough, but this….

I didn't know what else she could destroy that would reach out and touch me…and not knowing made things a hundred times worse.

She left me a holo-message at the massacre site; I think the only reason I knew it existed, heard that she had something to say, was because I was with Master Karr when he found it, paused and ready to play, presiding over the corpses she'd left behind.

" _Jaesa. This was not what we agreed upon, but I assign no blame to you. I smell Master Karr's hand in this. It seems his rubbing shoulders with Sith for too long has left stains that are difficult to scrub out._ "

I jerked my head to Master Karr, whose face was impassive…no, _stony_. She must be telling the truth for him to look so angry…and I wondered what shoulder rubbing he could have been doing.

" _You say you appreciate directness; we share a common interest then—"_

Master Karr shut off the message.

"Wait, I want to hear what she had to say," I snapped, surprised by the sharpness in my own voice.

"It's not worth listening to—just Sith prattle, trying to lure you out. Make you vulnerable," he responded brusquely.

Something snapped in me and I shouted at him, my voice loud in the otherwise quiet, "Master! I'm already vulnerable! What _more_ can she take from me?"

At which point, to my consternation—and something somewhat stronger—he launched into a Jedi lecture about why the Jedi prefer to begin training _young_ , and how he understood this must be hard for me, but how the Jedi path required blah, blah, blah.

My jaw trembled as I tried not to snarl back at him, to pick apart his stupid argument like I'd pick apart a seam. My muscles trembled from being clenched so hard, as if the effort of using them might keep me from flying apart into a million pieces. A dull pain pounded between my temples, and my extremities felt cold.

Something dark and hateful welled up inside me, something like anger—resentment—that tried to coil in my stomach, hissing malevolence and spitting spite.

I'm falling apart, being hacked apart by inches and all he can do is spout the formulaic Jedi crap about control and serenity and I don't know what other garbage? All he can do is present lackluster attempts to stop this Sith instead of taking her on himself? Who _cares_ if she's just an apprentice? _I'm_ just a Padawan and I supposedly scare her master! He doesn't need to come after me if he's got her so who's going to go after her since I'm 'not strong enough'?!

 _My loved ones are dead_! And the Sith no longer has to care who she hurts. She was a scalpel for a while, cutting away with meticulous precision. Now, she's like a grenade. Anyone will do and here _he_ stands, looking all stony and noble while other people fight and die in his place. Like a coward. Like a _Sith._

I fought it down with a chastened, "Yes, Master." My skin crawled, covered in cold sweat, clammy and uncomfortable. My teeth ground together so hard I thought I might fracture all of them.

"I intend," he continued in a calm sort of rant, "to end this. Myself. I'll make the arrangements _soon_ , but you must _promise_ me that you won't go anywhere near that red-headed witch."

It's about time. He should have taken this track long ago. How many innocent people died because he wasn't willing to step up and do what it took to stop her? She's not a Darth, not a Dark Lord. She's just an apprentice. There is no reason Master Karr shouldn't have been able to neutralize her.

Nevertheless, even with all this in mind, I shivered inwardly as I tried to think through the anger, the pain, the fear. The terrible mix made my headache worse.

Master Karr has never had anything kind to say about Darth Baras…but he's never been reduced to personal insults, either. And he's still never addressed The Sith by name. Could he be…scared…of her? The idea seemed ludicrous but…

I went back to my room, trying not to think about the un-heard portion of the message The Sith left for me. Instead, I picked up a datapad and stylus, and began scribbling on it. It's an uncomfortable position I'm in: she's tearing apart the fabric of my world…but it's so impersonal. She went after Master Yonlach, kept him in agony only long enough to make sure I would have a moment's worth of clarity before putting him out of his misery. She murdered my parents, but their deaths were quick, painless. She went to a place that should have been for amiable discussion…and broke a Jedi Knight and left his body as proof of it. I knew both those men…they were so strong…

I don't think she meant to put those deaths at my door, as the price for my deception…but it feels that way.

I curled up on my bed, shivering as with chill, keenly aware of feeling so…fragile.

I was about to break on the rock that was the nameless Sith.

I'll bet if someone went after those she cared about, she wouldn't stand for it. She'd go out and do something about it…make them kill her if that was the only way. What spawns that kind of strength? What did the Sith do to her to make her so cold and implacable, yet so willing to talk? What did they take away from her that she doesn't think about reciprocity, that attacks on one's family don't spark a little commiseration in the form of 'that could be me'?

I wish I _could_ talk with her…even if it ended with a fight. Master Karr described her as an animal…but I don't think I agree with him. An animal doesn't possess logic, or reason. An animal doesn't think past the next kill, or the next rise of passions.

This Sith…no, no animal is ever as _in control_ as this Sith seems to be.

I wish I could have that.

* * *

Author's Note: Hella is just using the phonetic spelling for her pronunciation of 'daddy.' She always has done and I couldn't bring myself to change it.


	6. Chapter 6

-Hella-

It was late, long after supper, but I was still up and thinking, going over and over the altercation with Zylixx and Ulldin. I should have pressed Zylixx harder from the angle of temptation; looking back, he'd have fallen for it. Lust and the hot blood of combat—it needn't have gone anywhere. Once he broke…well, he'd hate me for it, spurn me for it but he'd still be broken.

As I said: he'd like to hurt me so he could hear me scream. Nothing else would suffice when it came down to brass tacks and I'm not much for that sort of thing.

I have to be quicker on picking up what works and what doesn't…

Quinn's brisk knock drew me out of my reverie. "My lord? There's a matter of some urgency."

When turned around, I found that Quinn had—from the looks of things very hesitantly indeed—tried the door and found it open. Discomfort wobbled in his aura like a gelatin dessert in transit. He didn't like being in my space, even if he only stood on the threshold. As it was, he cut quite a figure, gilded from behind by the brighter lights of the corridor.

"Yes? What is it?"

"Lord Baras is on the holo."

I got up and stumbled, my legs having fallen asleep. It took a moment to steady myself before I strode out, Quinn falling in behind me.

" _Ah, there you are_ ," Baras declared dryly.

"Forgive me, master. I was…seething." Not strictly true, but Sith don't 'meditate,' as such, and that's the only word that comes to mind for what I was doing.

" _Indeed._ _I am deploying you to Hutta immediately, and you must make all haste. Nomen Karr has surfaced. He has called me out, if you will, challenged me to face him…to the death. And at the site of our long-ago battle, which he seemed to think apropos. This reeks of desperation_." There was savage glee in his tone that told me plainly I was not going there to be his backup.

I nodded, deciding to say nothing about Jaesa's attempt to meet. The attempt failed; it wouldn't interest him. It might tell him why Nomen Karr was suddenly ready to get involved personally, but it's still just a peripheral detail. "Am I to understand that you wish to give me the privilege of destroying him?"

" _You've read my mind, apprentice_." Baras folded his hands behind himself, began to pace, though the holo projection remained steady. " _What Karr fails to understand is that I have outgrown our little…dispute. What is no longer personal for me remains deeply so for him_." Baras snorted. " _He expects me to jump at the chance of strangling him._ "

"A grudge. How interesting." But no excitement made my stomach leap. A whiff of weakness is not a fault line and a fault line does not ensure shattering. Also, it's not the first time I've felt a tinge of distaste for my vaunted master: it's one thing for a highly-placed Sith to delegate killing to a minion, but something like this should really be handled in person. Otherwise, other Sith might smell blood in the water. If it were me, I would: this Jedi left Baras drained and defeated, now Baras refuses to face him a second time preferring to leave it to his apprentice.

Is it blood in the water or just a lure to trick others into the misstep of underestimation?

It doesn't matter. I'll remember this in future and remember that as much as possible I'll do my own killing. Then there will never be any doubt in anyone's mind about my ability to take out threats to myself. None of this foolish 'I would stoop to fight someone like _you_ ' nonsense. I'll just do it and be done. Sith aren't shy about taking on weaker opponents.

" _Indeed. He is prepared for me…but unprepared for you. Defeat him, but do not kill him. Use him to drive his Padawan out of hiding. Destroy her_." Baras' voice throbbed with the perverse pleasure common to Sith when they think of destroying an enemy—whatever he said to the contrary, there is still a personal stake in this Karr-Baras grudge.

That personal stake manifests in the glee in his tone when he thinks of using Nomen Karr to destroy Jaeasa—because if Nomen Karr is allowed to live long enough to see the girl fall or be killed…what greater torment could be heaped upon him? Well, perhaps if Baras would get off his fat arse and do it himself. And then there's the accent of it being due Baras' manipulations.

As with having me kill Overseer Tremel on long-ago Korriban, this could be a masterstroke. "Forward me the coordinates and details, master. I shall make an end to this."

" _I shall have a small detachment of soldiers meet you there. They will assist you however you see fit._ "

To ensure that I don't get too enthused or kill Nomen Karr in a fit of frustration or some other ridiculous thing. I know watchers when I see them.

" _The necessary data has been sent. Be swift, apprentice. And do not fail me_." As if I would.

The holo cut out. "Captain, I leave the military aspect to you. Whenever they show up, they're yours to order as you see fit."

"I understand."

I pulled up the data Baras sent, noted the time and location. "We should leave immediately and depend on the autopilot. I would rather not take Vette for this. She's…sensitive."

Quinn snorted at this, but refrained from making any personal remarks. Dislike for the Twi'lek flickered in his aura.

"Now, if I haven't resurfaced by the time we reach Hutta, come get me. I must…think."

"Very well. I shall see that everything is in order by the time we arrive."

I trust he will.

Now, to collect my thoughts, prepare myself for Master Nomen Karr.

I doubt he will be like any combatant I've ever faced.

I look forward to the challenge.


	7. Chapter 7

-Hella-

I strode into the warehouse, found Nomen Karr, in the flesh and alone, kneeling on a mat, apparently meditating.

"I felt the deaths of Zylixx and Ulldin. It is a pity they failed," he declared, in lieu of greeting.

"I would have thought you'd feel more pity that they are _dead_ —and that Zylixx broke before dying," I responded as Nomen Karr got to his feet. "A rather callous attitude for a Jedi."

His aura was calm, controlled, not easily read. I didn't expect it to be—Masters are like that. However, it wasn't the nauseatingly flat aura of Master Yonlach, which seemed to me a good sign.

"And your master shows himself a coward," the Jedi retorted sourly, extending his arms to indicate the building in general. "Here I am, true to my word, alone and ready to face him. And he…sends his apprentice."

Pot, meet kettle. I smirked at him, ignoring the snub. "You sound upset, Master Karr." Then, with a pause for emphasis, " _Angry_ , even."

Nomen Karr frowned at me, aura giving one minute, spiky pulse before flattening out. "I am not Zylixx. Don't try that garbage on me."

"Much what I said to Master Yonlach. Funny how these things come full circle." I didn't expect the personal remarks or flippancy to have any effect, so I wasn't disappointed. Still, a faint sense of anger began to drift off him, like heat from duracrete once night has fallen.

There was a protracted silence during which I found Quinn's shivery aura of jittery apprehension irritating. I don't blame him for being apprehensive or jittery—I'm braced through force of will alone—but it was the shivery quality of it that bothered me.

"I'll admit it, Sith, your crusade has affected me. I'm not blind to that. But I've wandered the line between Light and Dark before. I walked among your master and the Sith; my connection to the light survived."

"That may be true," I agreed amiably, but with a touch of malice. "One drop of ink in a cup of water might not alter the color much. But two drops? Three? Sooner or later the water reaches saturation…and then all turns to black."

"Very poetic," came the flat retort. Nomen Karr whipped out his lightsaber. I had mine out in a trice, but neither of us jumped to the attack. "I will put an end to you, Sith. And then it will be Baras' turn."

"You seem to truly hate my master. You certainly have no regard for me—though I sense a growing dislike. As how many drops of ink do those equate to, Master Karr? And how dark is the water already?"

Nomen Karr took a deep breath. "I have no choice but to put an end to you. And then all will be calm again."

"An interesting theory, to be sure."

Nomen Karr thought that, by running my mouth, I wasn't ready for him, that I was prey to Sith tendency of running my mouth and not my mind. He discovered the error in this thinking when he found me ready to deflect his offensive spring.

Nomen Karr was a fierce opponent, but the longer the fight dragged out, the more angry he became. Remembering my mistakes with Zylixx—and not trusting myself to try corrupting a Jedi Master—I kept silent, met blow for blow, tried not to rely on Force tactics.

Poor Quinn: he couldn't seem to get a shot in, the Jedi kept the pair of us moving around so much. Every now and again I caught a hint of irritation mixing increasingly with resignation…and a muffled enjoyment of the spectacle.

Suddenly, though, I got a lucky swing in, my lightsaber skittering across Nomen Karr's belly. He staggered back, dropped to his knees, sweating and shaking. His aura fluxed, suddenly saturated with anger and pain. "The Force…is very…strong with you…" he gritted out, checking the wound to see how bad it was.

I knew what he was doing by instinct but, again, held my tongue—I waited, patient, poised. Hatred, acid-spicy and foul, seeped slowly into his aura, like blood blossoming into a cloth. I've pushed him hard. He has no reserves left except the ones he's supposedly forbidden to use. He'll be more dangerous than ever, fiercer…this isn't a matter of seducing him towards the Dark Side—this is a matter of letting him build up a head of steam and letting him stumble over something, send him falling headlong into the darkness.

And this time there will be no return. Wouldn't _that_ impress Baras? Truss up his old enemy and send him back as Sith material? Not that I expect Baras will let him live, it would simply be irony that, on this spot where a Sith was revealed as a Jedi…a Jedi would be revealed to be Sith.

Or something like that.

I wasn't wrong but I wasn't completely right, either. Nomen Karr still had some tentative grip on his anger, but it wasn't something he was used to using in combat, and it strained against his control. I could feel it, tugging like an overeager akk dog fitted with a choke collar. "I'm still winning, Karr," I hissed when battle brought us close enough for me not to have to raise my voice. "A mere apprentice is besting you. There's only one way to beat me and you know it."

That being, of course, to reach into that anger, reach in deep and scrape the bottom of the reservoir of it.

The fight continued, wearing us down, forcing me to draw on the Force more actively as my physical stamina began to wane. The passive pull that augments my fighting was no longer enough.

Nomen Karr, too, found the physical toll difficult to bear—more so than I, for as his strength flagged, his rage and frustration, already feeding on his inability to gain the upper hand, surged. He was close, so close to giving in to a blind rage and I could sense that this was what it would take to start the process of eroding away that righteous Jedi persona in earnest: a blind rage.

It all starts with rage, rage which robs one of reason.

It happened in an instant, as these things always do. His rage broke, he sprang at me, one final, powerful volley which would decide all things. I let him have two good blows before I pulled my trump card.

He yelped as my lightsaber flicked off, then on again, the beam of light punching into his guts as I bypassed his block with a single stroke.

Trakata is not something that's often seen, which is why I usually save it for finishing moves, when I can be sure of its effectiveness, if I use it at all. A trick loses its efficacy if one overindulges.

Nomen Karr rolled onto his back, hands over the cauterized wound as I stood over him, using the Force to pull his lightsaber away. "Go on, Sith…the wound is mortal…" he shuddered with pain, from which I recoiled. "At least I die knowing you will never find…Jaesa…"

I put my heel on the wound and ground down, causing Nomen Karr to scream. It took effort to keep my nausea at the pain rolling off him in sheets down, but I managed. "You must think I'm supremely stupid." I looked up for Quinn. With the fight so intense I hadn't noticed when he actually dropped out of it—not that I blame him. Again, Nomen Karr was an excellent fighter and knew how to keep my second at bay without engaging him.

Quinn now stood with a unit of soldiers, all armored and with weapons leveled. Clearly, if I went down everyone would open up with everything they had and would cut Nomen Karr to pieces in the crossfire. Inelegant but, really, his only option and even then it's questionable as to whether it would work.

Within moments Quinn was in command of the situation, having two medics stabilize Nomen Karr (while three more kept weapons ready), setting sentries, briefing them on how things would continue. "He's stable, my lord," one of the soldiers reported, "anything in particular you want done with him?"

"Fetch a chair and place it there," I pointed to the center of the room in which we stood, "and secure him. We're not finished yet, he and I. I expect two guards outside the door—Quinn may pass, the girl we're expecting may pass, you," I pointed to one, "may remain to ensure Karr doesn't die on me. But no others are to be privy to what follows. I don't want the place cluttered." Not when I have to drag Jaesa out of hiding. I'll have to find a way to insulate myself against Nomen Karr's pain. I'm no good at torture, but I'll have to make myself be good at it today.

The prospect was deeply unpleasant.

I waited for Quinn to check in with me, taking the time to pull myself together. I don't think Nomen Karr brought Jaesa with him, but she's spunky: I'm sure she followed. Or will follow, soon.

I'd found a letter from her in amongst my messages when I check them prior to setting down on Hutta. She mourns Ulldin, is in agony over Zylixx…and apparently she found out that I shattered him before killing him. And I thought I read, between the lines, a faint interest, curiosity, about this.

In the end, keeping Nomen Karr in enough discomfort to draw out Jaesa proved to be a valuable experience: he broke within the third hour under a combination of pain (that elicited rage) and the application of carefully chosen psychological attacks—verbal, of course. I felt the break, laughed at the change, at the inversion of everything he was, which only incensed him the more.

It turned out that, the more I realized that I had time to break him down, the less I cared about the discomfort. The fascination of dismantling a Jedi took precedence and gave me protection.

In fact, I learned very easily through his ranting and in between threats and demands, that Jaesa is in an emotional turmoil that might make her susceptible to a fall as well. Nothing definite, that was simply the impression I had.

* * *

-Jaesa-

I couldn't take it anymore. I knew it would come to this: if Master Karr didn't overpower The Sith, she would overpower _him_ …and I'd have to come rescue him. I couldn't very well leave him to die…

…and the more I thought about it, the more I had time to think about it, the more it seemed I'd put off this confrontation for far too long. If I was honest with myself, I didn't expect him to best her. He wouldn't even _name_ her—that had to mean something more than non-recognition in an attempt to reduce her to a non-entity.

I wasn't stupid: if he couldn't stop her, what chance did I have? But what choice did I have? Just keep sitting here and waiting for her to corner me someday? It was a hundred, a thousand times better to just go, see what could be done and do it.

I won't lie to myself: the idea of relying on the Force in face of an enemy like this left me feeling like I was wearing a gown. Unprotected. Vulnerable.

And then I felt it: a strange slip and slide in my perceptions. I never connected to Master Karr the way I connected to Master Yonlach, but even so, I could tell there was something horribly, terribly wrong with him. And the more I felt I didn't want to know what had gone wrong the more I felt certain I had to face my fears and deal with them.

He saved me from a life that was smothering me. I had to remember that, and be grateful for it. I owe it to him to try to help him, whatever's happened.

That was the knot of attitude and belief I carried when I hiked out into the Hutta swamps to the place that Master Karr went to go duel Darth Baras.

I really didn't expect Darth Baras to show up. Master Karr had no right to _expect_ Darth Baras, after swapping me out for Zylixx and Ulldin. Fair was fair, and maybe The Sith truly believed I had the right to face my attacker. _If_ I was brave enough to assert it.

Master Karr was alive. I could feel it. But he was also…distorted…unfamiliar…in pain. The sense of unfamiliarity I felt—as if I were sensing a different person, like his brother or an uncle—might have blunted the pain, but it might have been his strength of mind. He has, after all, always tried to protect me, to keep me safe…even when that protection ended up causing me harm…

Well. That ends today. One way or another.

I was met at the entrance to the warehouse by the Imperial who had accompanied The Sith on the station, the one where Hirosho was killed. When he regarded me he glanced at my eyes just for a moment, before redirecting his gaze to mouth-level—a quirk I could only assume came from being an Imperial with Sith breathing down his neck.

He didn't seem surprised to see me. When he spoke his tones, clipped and accented in the Imperial fashion, were polite and almost deferential, as if he were addressing The Sith herself…or any Sith, really. Or maybe not 'any Sith.' There wasn't an ounce of the groveling, sniveling servility I'd have expected in an Imperial officer attached to a Sith. I thought the Sith liked their people—especially the non-Sensitives—cowed.

"You're expected…Padawan." He seemed a little unsure of the honorific he should use—why would he know?—but he made the attempt, nonetheless.

"I am here to rescue my master. Tell yours that I'm here," I declared stiffly, aware that I sounded almost petulant in my demand.

"Her Lordship has left strict instructions that you are to be conveyed to your master upon your arrival. Conveyed and shown every possible respect—you may keep your lightsaber." He stepped aside, motioned me to start walking, and fell in at my shoulder.

He was polite and precise, saying no more or less than was courteous and needful. It was weird, hearing this grey suit behave like any other solider I'd ever encountered. Well, that's not true: I didn't feel a drop of interest ore curiosity at my being a Jedi. Or a pretty one. It was as disconcerting as it was reassuring: I wasn't going to have to fight my way in and then worry about the Sith.

I didn't like him looming over me as we walked, but he conducted me where I was to go with all possible courtesy. I didn't know what to think about The Sith's apparent orders. I'd expected to have to fight my way in, or to sneak on only to be ambushed. All this smacked of fair and open dealing. It was surreal in a way I couldn't articulate.

"My orders are to wait here," the Imperial declared, once we reached a doorway that led into a large open space. "This is a meeting between Her Lordship, your master, and yourself. Force-user business." His tone suggested 'and none of mine.'

As if I wanted him following me around. "Thank you." The words were curt, but what did he expect?

"You're welcome. My lord?" he called.

The way he called her 'Her Lordship' was odd, as if he was trying to put distance between them even while not being particularly desirous of doing so. I couldn't take the time to look—and even if had the time, Master Karr wouldn't approve of me using my gift for such a petty curiosity—but I'd have liked to know what that was all about. If I had to guess…he liked her and was eager not to like her too much.

"Yes?" For the first time the voice was not faintly distorted by long-distance holocommunciations, or the faint fuzziness of recorded messages. The tone was calm, imperious, implacable, but utterly calm, a low velvety purr. If I felt though the Force, I could sense her, a solid lump of contained, constrained power, like a hot coal radiating heat while minding its own business. If it was disturbed by an unwary foot, it was hardly the coal's fault.

"She's here, my lord," the officer called, "Through here, Miss Willsaam."

He forgot to call me Padawan, but I found I didn't mind too much. I'm not exactly behaving like one today, since my master was explicit: stay put until I come back for you. A good Padawan would have stayed put or called for help.

I strode forward. As soon as I was out of the doorway, I found Master Karr on a simple chair, heavily restrained, but hissing and spitting incoherently at The Sith, who stood with her back half to the doorway through which I entered.

"Sith!" I barked.

She straightened from an attitude of having been listening to Master Karr, then turned slowly to face me. Her makeup was as heavy and fierce as ever, contrasting with her composed bearing. I couldn't help but noticing, growing up as I did, that her posture was excellent.

"Your lackey let me pass, so I assume I'm expected. Cease your sadistic attacks on my Master. _Now_." The words sounded horribly childish as I threw them at her. Thankfully, she didn't comment on the fact.

"There's no need for them to continue," The Sith answered, but Master Karr cut in as I moved cautiously forward. I had to gape at him: his appearance gave truth to the Sith's words. My mouth dropped open, though I wasn't sure what I should say.

* * *

Author's Note:

Paraphrasing the Wookiepedia (where you can find the full article): Trakata is a form of lightsaber combat, a supplementary style, that involved turning the blade of one's lightsaber on and off, often in quick succession.

To that end, Hella's main-hand weapon uses a very sensitive kind of dead man's switch. As Hella was home-schooled (so to speak) she learned whatever her father taught her and this was one of those 'little bag of tricks.'


	8. Chapter 8

-Hella-

"My lord." It was Quinn's voice that drew me out of my reverie.

"Yes?"

"She's here, my lord." Then, as he clearly he had her with him, "Through here, Miss Willsaam." Oh, very deftly done, Quinn. Not 'Jedi,' not 'Padawan,' not familiar…but establishing her as a unique entity. Flattering, unsettling (because Quinn can be devastatingly charming when he wants to be and sometimes when he doesn't mean to be), and probably unexpected. The politeness was a good start, for it brought out a ripple of cool uncertainty that compounded fear underneath a mask of courage.

She was small, this Jedi Padawan, petite in stature and delicately formed—but made bulky by the elaborately layered robes of a Jedi. Her large eyes peered out at the world from behind the obscuring sweep of her dark hair. Her mouth was pursed as though she might burst into indiscriminate hysterics at any moment—an evidence of what state her consciousness held back.

"Sith. Your lackey let me pass, so I assume I'm expected. Cease your sadistic attacks on my master, _now,_ " the girl demanded, her chin lifted resolutely. A small pucker between her brows suggested she was not entirely pleased with the way her words came out but the jut of her jaw said she was not about to take it back or try again.

She met my eyes unflinchingly, but there was confusion behind them rather than resolution. This meant I was making progress with her: she couldn't come to firm conclusions about me or about how to proceed. Her perception of me, of how to deal with me, was a soft and malleable thing.

"There's no need for them to continue," I noted before being overridden by Nomen Karr.

"Jaesa, _no_! I told you to stay put! How _dare_ you defy me?" Nomen Karr broke out in protestation, the sum of all fears—as far as he was concerned—having happened at last.

I turned to face Jaesa, took in her youthful prettiness, the uncertainty of still thinking herself a servant in exalted company, the defiant façade and…and felt the shimmer of fascination, of curiosity as she looked me over.

"All my sacrifice," Nomen Karr raged, saliva flying, "for _nothing_! Stupid, stupid child!"

"It's is a pleasure to meet you, face to face," I declared blandly, inclining my head politely and ignoring Nomen Karr's rudeness.

I moved aside, in so doing affording her her first good look at Nomen Karr's ravaged features, his eyes now Sith orange, his skin turning papery wherever tension settled. The degradation had happened so quickly, evidence of long term corruption lurking out of sight.

Jaesa put a hand to her mouth as though this could somehow stop the low, rolling 'boom' of disillusionment that shot out from her in all directions.

"For all your power you have understood nothing—"

"What have you _done_ to him, Sith?" Jaesa demanded, her voice shaking. That she ignored Nomen Karr's interjection as much as I had struck me as a positive sign. Positive for me, at least.

"This?" I motioned to Nomen Karr's face. "This was none of my doing. I merely shook it to the top." And I was telling the truth, in case she decided to bend that odd power of hers against me.

"Was-was this inside him…all along?" her voice ended on a weak note.

There was pain in her, fear, shock that anyone could be so sadistic, shock at the change in her master. Her emotional turmoil was so far beyond what I expected that I had to stop feeling at it or risk getting thoroughly distracted. So many emotions, so many shades, all tangled in a cacophony of pain and confusion.

She was anchorless. That's the thing needed to reach her. And…I think, this time, I can do it. If I do it _right_ she'll be a far safer apprentice to me than I am—or will eventually be—to Baras. This won't be my failed attempt with Zylixx, or just finishing what had already begun with Nomen Karr. This…will be a true exposition of skill.

I'd much rather have her alive and at hand than dead and wasted. And now I see the way to do it.

 _Never_ waste a resource—Tremel had that much correct, at least. She was old when she came to the Jedi for training—relatively speaking—she knows a little about the world beyond their Order. When I felt for a sense of loss, I found it, a quivering, throbbing knot of pain. Freeing her from Alderaan hadn't been the escape she thought. It had been a mouthful of water to a woman dying of thirst: the thirst came back the worse for having been slaked once.

"No," she mumbled to herself, anger flickering, "no, I—it can't be. No one could hide such…corruption! Not from _me_!"

So, she'd begun to believe in her power's infallibility. I suppose that's not surprising: it made her special, unique. No one from her background would want to give up something so distinguishing even if the possession of it became a burden. "He posed as a Sith long enough that he brought some of it back with him," I declared. "It's been eating at him like a worm in an apple. He was too proud to consider the possibility; otherwise, he might have rooted it out."

"No!" Jaesa spat. "Somehow you- _you_ turned him mad! This is _your_ doing!"

I know blame out of convenience when I see it. Socialites of Mother's circles make a positive sport of it.

"Don't take my word for it." I walked over to stand level with her, but not close to her. "Look into your master with that odd little trick of yours." Best to downplay the power she's had paraded for so long. It makes her unique but I suspect she's begun to vanish as, more and more, people see what she can do rather than she who can do. My caution was rewarded: a faint shading of relief to hear _someone_ apparently unimpressed, apparently uncaring of the application of her 'odd little trick.' Recognition and admiration are nice, but from what I can tell she's had more of being used for her power's sake than being recognized as a competent individual with a gift—and she'd begun to realize it. "Look into your master's heart and find the truth."

"Master Karr taught me not to use my power as a crutch," she responded, this time turning to look at me, her big, dark eyes wide as she tossed her head to get her hair out of her face. Ah, the veil moves aside. " _Only_ when it was clearly necessary." Her lower lip, though, caught in her teeth, disarranging her attempt at keeping her expression calm. The words sounded more like a tap into her stream of consciousness than anything else.

"Clearly necessary for _whom_?" I meant the question literally, but also hoping to get her thinking: who has always decided when it was or wasn't necessary? It certainly wasn't Jaesa, the possessor of the power. I'll bet she's been paraded around like a show dog…and from the look on her face, the way she looked away as if ashamed…I think I'm right. I paced behind her. "Surely it's necessary _now_. If _my_ master suddenly began calling me 'my child' and banging on about my wicked, wily ways, I'd certainly want to know what had addled _his_ wits."

I won't lie: this mental image of Baras was hilarious.

The girl snorted softly, her expression spasming for the briefest moment into amusement. The laughter was followed by a blossom of uncertainty…but I had a good point. A touch of resentment: who's been deciding 'when it is necessary,' after all? And she's too clever a girl not to have realized it…just too repressed to complain of it.

I was racking up ways to influence this girl. She needs an anchor, someone she can attach to as she finds her bearings in a galaxy that has change since she left Alderaan or wherever the Jedi lair up. She needs someone who offers guidance, who actually answers her questions rather than telling her how things should be. An elder sister figure, then.

"What it is the Jedi say? There is no fear…?" I challenged, tone snide and insinuating.

She mumbled something, probably the other half of the phrase. She didn't look as though her heart was in it.

"Look or don't look, it's all the same to me." Again, downplaying her powers, and the relief burgeoned, widening the chinks in her armor. How has it been? Probably she's been made to feel that she's lined up for 'great destiny,' but has been downplayed as a person: it's her power that matters, not _her_.

When has it ever been all about Jaesa? Never, I'm thinking. Hmph. The Jedi may have done much of my work for me when it comes to bringing this girl over to the Dark Side. She's crumbling like my favorite shortbread does.

Jaesa bowed her head, lifting her clasped—almost knotted—hands to breastbone level—I recognized a reinforcing gesture when I saw one. Hm. She's actually going to look, to take my suggestion rather than rely on what she 'knows' about the untrustworthiness of Sith. Good.

I prowled up to her shoulder, just out of swiping distance. "What do you see?" the question was so soft, so unassuming that she answered reflexively.

Clearly she's been trained to articulate for others. "I see…pride." Her voice hardened, "And envy. Hate. Vengeance…" Her voice rose with each word, her breath came faster as if to suppress her own emotional recoil from the truth, her aura exploding with fear and disappointment. If it were a sound it would have deafened. I had to remove myself to stand back beside Nomen Karr while it exploded and roiled. Fortunately, I was better practiced at masking such retreat as a need to prowl around. "No! Wh-what Sith trick is this?!" Her eyes flew open wide, much of the whites showing as she shook her hair out of her face. " _I_ would have _known_ if such darkness resided within him!"

"Did you ever think to look? Accept that you were wrong and move on." The callous words rasped an already tender psyche.

"Move on?" she mouthed the words before repeating them aloud, her head flung back. She reminded me very much of a horse unsure if it's angry or frightened and trying to react in keeping with both emotions. "Move on! To _what_? Jedi are…pure…" The anger was gone, replaced by a fragile uncertainty. Suddenly, her entire visage was unguarded, allowing anyone with eyes to see exactly what was there. She was as clear as fine crystal; all I need now is a little sunlight to find the rest of the exploitable imperfections.

I glanced at Nomen Karr, who seemed struck dumb with horror at what he was witnessing, unable to intervene for one reason or another. Did he truly not know how much this girl had suffered? Was he truly so dense as to not see the chinks?

"You're supposed to know where your stand with them, right?" Jaesa looked at her former master again, but I rather thought the question was either rhetorical or directed at me.

"Jaesa," Nomen Karr implored, finding his tongue as her attention came to rest on him. "This is all a trick. Turn your power on the Sith and you'll see—"

Ah, in her condition? Is that wise? I think not, so I hope she goes through with it.

"Orders. Always with the _orders_ ," I murmured, as if for my own benefit but, really, for hers. "But come, now. _Are_ you curious? _Would_ you like to snoop? I've nothing to hide. Look all you like."

This startled Jaesa, it was in her aura as well as all over her face. "I…what?" Clearly she's too used to people hiding from her 'odd little trick,' not facing up to it with cool composure.

"Let me experience your little parlour trick," I repeated patiently. "Go on. It's _clearly necessary_ , after all." I cast Nomen Karr a significant look.

Jaesa's mouth thinned, the lips blanching, but there was something new in her aura. A kind of…not exactly respect, but a growing sort of interest in a Sith that did not, apparently, live up or down—depending on how one looks at it—to her expectations.

She eyed me for several moments as if gauging me very carefully. "V-very well then…" Her tone attempted proud dignity but she still faltered. She took a deep breath, bowed her head, her curtain of dark hair sweeping forward. Her breath caught as if someone had suddenly gripped her lungs.

I _felt_ her, felt a Force bond snap into place with such suddenness that I almost cried out in protest. It stung a little against my perceptions, but the discomfort was only momentary. Our gifts are…sympathetic…to one another. She senses motivations, core truths. I sense emotions with particular clarity and poignancy, aware of nuance most Sensitives would miss without careful investigation. I see, with accuracy, the tangled messes that comprises all sapients.

An empathic Sith. The galaxy has such a sense of humor.

"I-I sense…so _dark_. You're awash in…vices and cruelty. Anger. And greed. And malevolence…" Her voice stuck as a faint blush mantled in her cheeks. The moment of connectivity gave me uncommon insight so although she did not speak her next sentiment I knew what it was: _but you understand._ "…they drive your emotions, it is too much to bear!"

I wonder if she's getting feedback off of me, like paint exchange in groundcar fender benders. I brought my mind into focus, dredging up the sense of my own invincibility, that while I took orders I made my own way whenever possible, that I was my own woman but didn't need to shove the fact into other people's faces. I was fierce, proud, independent…free to do what I liked as long as I said 'yes sir' to my master's face and accomplished his objectives when he set them. And, really, what were empty words when I gained so much from them?

And, one day, I would no longer need to say them.

Fascinated memorization rippled in her aura. Though the newly established bond—which she might or might not have recognized, as harrowed up as she is—I felt her _reach_ out for me, as if I could save her from drowning in a life not truly of her choosing. She'd been bundled here and there, shuffled about, unable to call her soul her own, bowing to what seemed like every will but her own. But I wasn't that way…and I burned brightly in her mind because of it. Sith. Jedi. It increasingly didn't matter. All that mattered was that she stay above the floodwaters trying to drown her.

"I told you, foolish child," Nomen Karr murmured, "the fates of your parents and Master Yonlach should have been proof enough!" I knew when Jaesa ceased her scrying, but the uncommon insight I'd already gained—not as though mind-reading, more…as if in addition to the touch of emotion I had color and shape as reference material—told me what to do: let Nomen Karr talk, argue back with him, wrench the girl hard, like a wet washcloth until she overloaded.

Goad her into a fight, then show armed superiority. I'm still a little tired from my battle with Nomen Karr and from maintaining such intensive focus to the nuances going on around me, but I've been training for combat all my life and have dealt all my life with watching and deciphering people. I can cope.

She's had, what? A few years of combat? Studied deciphering people only to know when to run for cover or to keep her mouth shut?

The stage is set. I _can_ do this. She wants to be what I am, to have what I have…but she's afraid. Afraid to let others down, part of her still hates me for having hurt her so badly…but part of her knows that, if Nomen Karr had left her alone, none of this would have happened. She would have remained unimportant and ignored…and utterly miserable anyway. It would just be a different kind of misery. From what I saw of Alderaan…well.

The thoughts of misery burned at her like brands.

"I'm sorry, Master," Jaesa faltered. What she was sorry _for_ , however, remained suspect. I don't think she was even sure why she was apologizing…and somewhere in the mire of her emotions was a singular spike of 'and why _should_ I be sorry? I'm so tired of it.' Not in words, mind, but that was the sense I got from her.

"Why? Didn't _he_ suggest you take a look? And now he thinks you shouldn't have. Make up your mind, Master Karr. You're confusing the poor girl." Condescending, yes, but addressing one of Jaesa's more immediate needs. There was arch sympathy in my voice, but the censure against Nomen Karr was real enough.

Nomen Karr is focusing on the future, on the ephemeral. Jaesa, in pain as she is, needs someone to focus on the now and the tangible nature of emotional pain.

"I've wandered into your trap," Jaesa spat at me, though her aura reflected that her heart wasn't in it. "I will do whatever it takes to stop you, Sith, and save my master." Like a student reciting a lesson.

She might as well have just said 'save me' and have done.

* * *

-Jaesa-

"Jaesa, _no_! I told you to stay put! How _dare_ you defy me?" There was savagery in Master Karr's tone, affront that I would _dare_ to disobey, would even _think_ about it. As I came closer I began to see his features clearly. They were warped, distorted, weathered by the Dark Side, his eyes a shade of orange to rival those of The Sith who stood so sedately beside him, more like a caretaker than a tormentor. His flesh was flecked with discolored patches, like freckles or ink spots in wet paper. He had the appearance of bruises under his eyes and the corners of his mouth seemed to be strangely shadowed over. Veins stood out dark under his skin as he struggled against his bonds and every line in his face seemed somehow hatchet-sharp and cruel. Looking at him…I wasn't sure I even knew who he was.

He struck a sharp counterpoint to the Sith beside him. It was strange to see a Sith so calm and my master so riled. Perverse, even…and it puzzled me how it could be so. The Sith carried an air of palpable control, that all things here had happened because she willed it so, and that all things would continue to happen as she desired _because_ she willed it to be so…and had the strength to back up the will. She didn't smolder with anger. In fact, apart from the oppressive sense of authority and security, she seemed quite…amiable.

"My sacrifice for _nothing_!" Master Karr raged, almost running over The Sith's polite words.

"It's is a pleasure to meet you, face to face," The Sith declared, her bright, Dark Side eyes looking me up and down.

Sacrifice? What sacrifice is he talking about?

"Stupid, stupid child!" Spittle flew from Master Karr's mouth as he raged. "For all your power, you have understood _nothing_!" He struggled at his bonds, veins popping out on his forehead, muscles straining as he fought. For a moment I wondered that his restraints didn't just give out. Then again, I suppose Sith would know how to subdue their own kind, so why not apply the same equipment or principles to the Jedi?

"What-what have you _done_ to him, Sith?" I demanded, repulsed by what I was seeing. Master Karr looked far worse off than The Sith did. Her skin was unnaturally pale, a little papery at the corners of her eyes, which were Dark Side orange, but she was still pretty, an elegant woman, thirty at the oldest, poised and dignified.

Master Karr's face was ravaged, wrinkled and desiccated, like an apple left out for too long. There was animosity and hatred roiling about him so strongly that it burned like pepper against my senses, rasped like sandpaper against my mind.

The galaxy had truly turned upside-down.

"This?" The Sith motioned to Master Karr, surprised, "This was none of _my_ doing. I merely shook it to the top." Her tone smacked of veracity, though I suppose she _could_ be lying.

I didn't think so, though. Her words, as well as tiny fragments of the past I'd been trying not to see, tried to justify, began to coalesce. "Was this inside him…all along?" I didn't like the weakness in my voice, and it struck me that I should be a little more careful in asking confirmation about a Jedi's fall from a _Sith_. A crazy, evil woman who'd killed and marauded her way through the galaxy just to get to me.

But she wasn't the mindless beast Master Karr always painted her as.

"No," I interrupted her sharply. "No, it can't be! No one could hide such corruption! Not from _me_!" The idea that he had, that I hadn't known it was there, was abhorrent to me. How could he perpetrate such a lie? Pretend to be such a good person when this…when this was just beneath the surface?

How could I be so blind to it? What good is my special power if I miss things like _this_ right under my nose? I wasn't sure if I felt helpless at the thought or just angry. And, if I was angry, I wasn't sure who I was angry with, him or myself.

"He posed as a Sith long enough that he brought some of it back with him." The Sith announced nonchalantly. "It's been eating at him like a worm in an apple. He was too proud to consider the possibility; otherwise he might have rooted it out." She studied him thoughtfully, but said nothing more.

"No! Somehow you-you've turned him mad! This is _your_ doing!" The words sounded plaintive, like a spoiled child refusing to own her own actions. I wanted to blame her, but wasn't entirely sure I could. Or should. Master Karr did look awful and, surely, it took timeand deep corruption to produce a visage like that.

"Don't take my word for it," The Sith responded patiently, her eyes narrowed in thought as she moved to stand more on a level with me, at conversation distance…but still just out of lightsaber range. I was glad she was away from Master Karr…but I wasn't sure I was glad that she was closer to me. "Look into your master with that odd little trick of yours." It was simply a suggestion; I was perfectly free to refuse.

I wanted to give a nervous laugh. My…odd little trick? It's the first time I've _ever_ heard it referred to that way. In fact, she seemed so disinterested in it that I found myself feeling nettled. No, I found myself nettled because of all the people who should make me feel upset…she failed to do it. Instead, I found myself thinking how much I'd hated it when people made much of my gift—I felt marginalized in the face of my power. I'd tried not to, tried to think of what was best for everyone…but I'd hated being eclipsed by my own ability. For a while I'd been Jaesa, who was special. Then I became an ability who answered to 'Jaesa' when being called into use.

And here was this Sith—who was supposed to be power hungry, like all Sith—practically waving my special power away as not being worth as much interest as _I_ was. I could imagine how useful my power would be to her in a world of treachery and betrayal such as the world the Sith inhabit…but she could _definitely_ live without it. And succeed in life, too.

"Look into your master's heart and find the truth," The Sith encouraged…but her tone also suggested 'or don't, it's all one to me.'

What…does she want? Why is she here? What does she hope to gain? If she wanted me dead, she could have done it easily, I'm sure… She doesn't need my power, she doesn't even seem to care about it. But we're here, talking, and it's a…this whole situation is perverse…

"Master Karr taught me not to use my power as a crutch," I tried to sound defiant, but curiosity began to gnaw at me. "Only when it was _clearly_ necessary." And it sounded stupid, even as I said it. The way she arched one red eyebrow—a tiny proof that her hair was naturally that color—made me feel even stupider.

She voiced one of my own insidious little thoughts. "Clearly necessary for _whom_? Surely it's necessary _now_." I quite agree with her, even though I'd never admit it out loud. "If _my_ master suddenly began calling me 'my child' and banging on about my wicked, wily ways, I'd certainly want to know what had addled _his_ wits."

I resisted the urge to laugh, especially since her expression opened into bemusement, as if she were picturing some evil old Darth suddenly spouting Jedi lectures.

I did choke a laugh because I could imagine her rejoinder to this caricature. It involved his head flying spectacularly off his shoulders. I brought myself up sharply: she is _Sith_. I shouldn't be laughing at her jokes or looking to her for approval…or guidance.

But I couldn't deny that her words struck a chord, all the same. It's true, what she says: I've always been told when it was clearly necessary…and whenever I've wanted to use my power for my own reasons…I've been told 'no,' as if I didn't know when it was best to apply it.

It was strange to have the option to do or not to do, whichever I wanted.

"What it is the Jedi say? There is no fear…?" she asked.

"There is only…" I stopped my mumbled answer, realizing, with a pang of terror, that I couldn't remember the other half of the couplet. I found myself thinking 'there is only the Force,' but I _knew_ that was out of order…

"Look or don't look, it's all the same to me."

The old feeling of mutinous discontent rose out of the terror of having forgotten one of the most basic things a Jedi learns. It was better to do something and work around the fear…

I turned to face Master Karr, reached out through the Force, looking into the core of him. From what I understand, what I do is very similar to several branches of skill…but is completely different. It's not reading minds or hyper-awareness of the emotions of others. It's knowing someone's core for what it is; no digging, no rummaging, I just…know…what's there. What motivates them. Even the things they don't realize about themselves. And, which make me feel better about using it, it's not…invasive.

I nearly recoiled from Master Karr, vaguely aware that The Sith might have said something…or maybe it was in my own mind. Either way, I heard my own voice translating what I saw, but the reality was more than colorless words could ever convey. I didn't think there were words in any language, in all the languages across the galaxy, to convey the awfulness of what I found.

There was pride at being _the_ Nomen Karr, and pride of possession of the tool that could make the Jedi _great_ , that could lead to the obliteration of the Sith Empire…and _he_ would be at the head of the victory, _the_ Nomen Karr with the magic wand that had brought it all about.

I wasn't even a name. Just a tool.

And there was envy—envy that the power that could propel him to fame wasn't actually _his_ , simply in his keeping. And from that envy, a shade of resentment: why me and not him?

And there was a driving thirst for vengeance, against the Sith, against those who'd doubted him, against those who'd tried to hold him back, against those who _had_ held him back…

I staggered away, clamping my hands over my eyes, half-expecting to feel The Sith's lightsaber as she exploited my moment of absolute vulnerability…

…but it didn't come.

I looked up, found my vision obscured by tears. She hadn't moved. Master Karr looked furious, vengeful. Hateful, even…and it was aimed at me.

"No!" My scream was supposed to be a denial, but came out as a cry of protest. "Wh-what Sith trick is this?! _I_ would have _known_ if such darkness resided within him!"

She snorted softly, her expression grim but not entirely unsympathetic. "Did you ever think to look? Accept that you were wrong and move on."

Move on? "Move on?" I was caught between being angry and being afraid, and was trying desperately not to be either. It didn't help that she hadn't raised her voice, that even the callous declaration that I should 'move on' was pragmatic, simply objective good advice. I wanted to scream at her, to demand what she _wanted_ from me, but the words didn't come. Instead, I spoke my mind, "Move on! To _what_? Jedi are…pure…you're supposed to know where your stand with them, right?"

I looked back to Master Karr, to the ravaged features and the burning behind his eyes. Seeing the evidences of corruption made me feel sick to my stomach: he'd been hiding this all along, hadn't he? How can you know where you stand around people with that degree of ability to conceal?

"Jaesa," Master Karr snarled. "This is all a trick. Turn your power on the Sith and you'll see—"

"Orders. Always with the _orders_ ," The Sith declared darkly, giving him a disgusted look, as though she found it offensive that he would have the gall to be giving them _now_. Then, she addressed me, looking me squarely in the eye, "But come, now. _Are_ you curious? _Would_ you like to snoop? I've nothing to hide. Look all you like."

"I…what?" Did she just…but people…most people cringe at the idea of my power, of being looked at and deciphered like coded text. That she could stand there, her hands spread as though to say 'here I am,' apparently utterly willing to be subject to such scrutiny shocked me. And, I'll admit, it was admirable, too. Surely she's heard enough about my gift to know that, when I _use_ it, there's _no_ hiding…

And that surety of self she possessed gnawed at me, left me feeling jealous. To be that confident of who I was, of my place in the galaxy…to stand before total scrutiny and say 'look all you like'…I wanted that.

"Let me experience your little parlour trick," The Sith repeated, an invitation not an order. "Go on." Then, after casting Master Karr a contemptuous look, as though he were some old geezer here to spoil our visit, "It's _clearly necessary_ , after all." The inflection hit a nerve already raw: the nerve that was tired of being told when it was necessary and reprimanding me when it wasn't and I wanted it to be.

And she? She was the first brave soul. I admired her for that. Why couldn't the Jedi make such a strong impression? For all their speeches about being calm, I never saw one that seemed as comfortable in his or her own skin as this Sith does.

She didn't press me, merely waited. Part of me wanted to draw back—being so obviously baited by a Sith _should_ be off-putting…but at the same time…I was curious. What makes her tick? How can she be so vicious in a fight, even with unarmed men, but be so rational? Why were we even still _talking_? Master Karr was so sure she wanted to kill me, but she hasn't made a single threatening move despite numerous opportunities. Her lackey was instructed to be completely courteous, too. He was still there, blocking the door, eyes downcast, observing but separate from the encounter.

"V-very well then…"

I took a sharp breath: it was like being suddenly dragged underwater, as if her very being reached out to me, intent on making me see into every dark recess. She was darkness and yet she seemed to come into sharp focus. She reveled in being who she was: strong, potent, so superior to so many and able to maneuver those who really were superior to her. All these things being things she had earned, proved to be true to herself and to others. She was cruel, petty even, but she'd learned it while lashing out from within a gilded cage. The desperation of a trapped creature had become the raging fury of a creature who had escaped its confinement and was determined _never_ to be so trapped again. _Never._ Not by _anyone_.

I could commiserate and found myself feeling less afraid of her…or, at least, not afraid of her in the same way I had been. I knew what it was to be hemmed in and trapped, but I was never in a position to lash out at the people around me.

There was more: a deep, burning hunger for the Imperial soldier who'd conducted me here, who always seemed to be at her shoulder, frustration that she couldn't make progress with him and puzzlement at the same. She's not someone used to having things denied to her. It was like lust, but…not: simply having him in body wasn't enough. Just _having_ him would _never_ be enough. It was a visceral need that seemed to perplex her as much as it frustrated her.

My cheeks burned with embarrassment at finding all this out. It was strange to think that a Sith could feel something more complicated than base desire…and strange to find one who could refrain from pressing the issue when put off. Or, perhaps, it was the perplexity that made her seem more human—

I didn't want to think about it. It was the first time I'd come across something, when looking into someone, that I felt deserved privacy.

She was angry. That was easy to find and easier to pay attention to (not to mention less embarrassing). She was angry at so many people and accepted that she was angry with them…and in so doing the anger became less toxic, more of a habit than an active thing, like a scab she could pick at when bored or needing motivation but which didn't bother her much in her day to day life. I could see it: the anger in her would have destroyed her years ago if she hadn't found a way to transmute it. I applauded her courage, the strength that it must have taken.

And there was greed…but always greed with a sense of purpose, or a sense of purpose that justified greed. It wasn't like a miser hoarding treasure; it was like hoarding treasure with the intent to use it to some particular end…and then to begin the process again from the comfort of an end achieved. It was ambition with direction.

Was this truly what it was to be Sith? Because somehow…it didn't seem anything like what I'd been taught to expect. There _was_ malevolence in her, but as with all things, it was directed, with very specific targets…or a cloud of disdain. Regardless, there was _order_ to her, something unexpected in a Sith.

She was…balanced…in a way I'd never seen or imagined.

And I found that seed of jealousy in my heart growing. Why should someone so steeped in vice and darkness be so comfortable in her skin—even with her inner turmoils? Why should I, who'd live d a Jedi's life of deprivation, done everything I was supposed to, tried so hard to be the prefect little Padawan, feel so harrowed up and just messed up when _she_ did what she wanted, when she wanted and (usually) to whom she wanted without fear of repercussion?

"…they drive your emotions, it is too much to bear!" I snarled, knowing that my words would make little sense to her, since they were in context of my thoughts rather than my stated observations.

It's so unfair: she's not one to feel helpless, although she's Sith. I was always taught they were ruled by fear, but she's _fearless_. Probably thinks she's invincible…and she won't be contained. She won't be constrained. She'll say 'yes sir' to her master, of course, but he'll never really own her. And, someday, she'll eclipse him, and what a day that would be. She's bested Master Karr, what would it be like to see her best the fellow who made the poisonous rivalry that ended in the deaths of so many people I care about? Of so many innocents across the galaxy? She could put them both to rest, plant them in the ground where they deserve to be.

I want that. I want to be there for that. I want what she has. I want her life. Her freedom. I found myself verging on tears of frustration, caught between reminding myself that _she is Sith_ …and not caring, wanting to beg her to take me with her, to set me free from the wreck that is my life.

"I told you, foolish child," Master Karr murmured, "the fates of your parents and Master Yonlach should have been proof enough!"

And if he'd come at this Sith head-on, as she would have done had she been able to reach him, they wouldn't have died. If he'd attacked her master head-on, none of this would have happened. How many people did he throw at this Sith before finally deigning to involve himself?

Coward.

The word rang starkly in my head.

 _Coward_.

Contempt blossomed dark and noxious in my heart, and it was all for him.

My perception of The Sith changed; she'd come up on the balls of her feet, seemed to realize that something was brewing, something that might be beyond her control…and she reveled in the anticipation, curious as to how things would go, eager to test herself in the face of the unknown.

Her enthusiasm in the face of the unknown made me sick: I'd never approached the unknown that way, never looked out into the blackness and stood challenging before it. If Sith are ruled by fear…what word is there for what the Jedi are ruled by?

Suddenly I was so tired of being afraid. Of being sheltered until I had no idea what I was capable of withstanding or crossing.

"I'm sorry, Master," I whispered, not caring if neither he nor The Sith had context. I wasn't sorry I'd looked into The Sith. I was sorry I'd been such a fool.

"Why?" The Sith demanded, sounding surprised, "Didn't _he_ suggest you take a look? And now he thinks you shouldn't have. Make up your mind, Master Karr," her tone dripped with acid, "You're confusing the poor girl."

I turned my head sharply, scowling at her. 'Poor girl' indeed?! I do _not_ need an advocate!

"I've wandered into your trap," I admitted. "I will do whatever it takes to stop you, Sith, and save my master." The challenge came out of my mouth unexpectedly. I'd meant to tell her that I didn't need her help dealing with Master Karr…but the challenge had come out instead, as if part of me refused to be stifled and silenced any longer.

My insides lurched as adrenaline began to pour into my blood. Part of me was excited by my own recklessness, part of me reeled in confusion, part of me screamed that there had been too much talking and action was just plain easier to deal with.


	9. Chapter 9

-Hella-

"You? Stop me?" The words caused fear/confusion to rise again. "Very well. Come, strike me down. If you can." I flicked both lightsabers free from my belt and ignited them, 'lighting up' first, as is expected of a Sith. I was living up to so many of her expectations—but not the ones she expected. She wanted a monster, she had something…admirable.

"Is-is this more Sith trickery…?" She took a step back, then her face hardened, resolution firming her aura. It was the resolution of someone standing on a cliff and had made up her mind to just _jump_. " _No_. Do not taunt me, Sith—I will _not_ be played with." But, despite knowing I was maneuvering her…well, people who turn to spice know it's bad for them, but they still ingest that poison.

"Come at me, Jaesa," I purred, stepping sideways, careful to keep my movements controlled, not to let any sign of fatigue show, determined to give the best performance I could—embellishments, flare, drama, all of it. "You've been left with no other course of action." She'd have to be uncommonly good with a lightsaber to give me real trouble—and I can always drop the show if she surprises me.

I don't think she will, though—her stance indicates too much uncertainty about her opponent. She knows, in her heart, that she's no match for me…and yet I afford her a chance at a sort of trial by combat. I destroyed Zylixx, I killed Ulldin, I've 'ruined' her master. What is she? A little apprentice whose resolve is wavering, who begins to burn bitterly for the freedom and open-ended life I have.

But she can't just come out and beg me to free her from the life in which she's stuck—it would be unseemly. But if she could…she would. And because of this, she's already mine. All she needs is an excuse, a severance of sorts from her previous life.

"The time for talk is over. Come at me," I declared simply, "or I will cut down your master where he sits. Bound and helpless and all." My voice rose as I let anticipation or the fight, for the performance, rise within me. I can break her. I see my way all the more clearly from the high of excitement and apprehension of a delicate job in the works.

Jaesa whipped out her lightsaber—a double-ended thing, unwieldy, but she handled it well enough. "I will _not_ let that happen!"

"You wanted to save him? There is only one way: _through me_."

Nomen Karr's exclamation of shock, or realization that he'd been helping me, in one way or another, push Jaesa to a place from which she would not emerge unscathed, was lost in Jaesa's wordless rallying shout—which was as much to vent pain as to focus herself.

Jaesa threw herself forward. She had command of her weapon but it was not really a part of her. Not yet. She knew exactly where both ends of it were, and had a nasty habit of bringing the far blade to the fore, like a cat abruptly unsheathing a claw to scratch deeply when, a moment before, it had been merely batting at one's hand.

I let her have a few good hits, the solid clash of lightsabers so she could feel her own strength—even if against the wall of mine—just to get her confidence up. Just as her excitement in the battle crested, when she thought, for a brief moment, that maybe she _could_ overcome me, that maybe I wasn't as invincible and powerful as I seemed—which would be a pity, in some ways—I yanked the rug out from under her, surging back, implacable, forcing her to move.

Then I spun back, robes flaring. The battle moved in a ring, Jaesa permitted to act and attack as she liked only to be rebuffed with a flourish or a sweep, or something meant to showcase that she was so outclassed there was little point to the fight. She'd come to the point of hope only to realize that she'd misjudged, horribly…and part of her was achingly delighted over it: I hadn't fallen short of her expectations, I wasn't to be beaten by _anyone_ , I was, all in all, wholly admirable, worthy of emulation. So far I had failed to let her down. And that meant something.

But she still couldn't give up—a point in her favor, for the hard won thing is so much better than that which is easily achieved. Quinn comes to mind. I caught him out of the corner of my eye as I turned on the spot, Jaesa narrowly missing my shoulder as she lunged. He stood there, absorbed in watching the fight. If I reached out, I could feel the interest, the admiration, the appreciation. All the things that—coming from him—stroke my ego.

I smirked as I gave Jaesa that part of my attention I'd diverted. Sweat had begun to pour down her skin, and her robes seemed to be discomforting her greatly. Frustration and pain and every other awful thing she'd been feeling seethed beneath the surface, beginning to spin in a maelstrom that would implode, turn her inside-out, and leave her either dead or Sith.

The roil of fermenting emotion, of an increasingly toxic mix, went round and round and round, swirling and twirling as the combat progressed. She was tiring—so was I, but I didn't have the mental upheaval to deal with. As her emotions circled, resentment of Nomen Karr grew; he was the source of all her troubles, him and his feud with my master. Doubt coiled like a poisonous snake: had he ever cared about her as a person, or was she just a tool to further his goals? Had he cared about _anyone_ he'd thrown into my path, especially once it became clear I was not the average brutish Sith? I had… _refinement_. Something she hadn't been taught to expect from the scions of the Dark Side.

And she wasn't sure whether to hate me or not. I was part of the poisonous plot that had killed Master Yonlach, killed her parents, ruined her master, was ruining her…and yet…she couldn't quite hate me for my part in the darkness slowly permeating her being.

She made a misstep that allowed me to disarm her with one lightsaber. She looked up, eyes wide, expression frozen as I brought my other lightsaber arcing down in a blow that should have severed her completely in half…

…the blade vanished a centimeter from her shoulder only to reappear a centimeter after passing across her. Quite the flourish. She gasped, and her aura went completely and utterly blank, as if a screen had just been turned off.

* * *

-Jaesa-

"You? Stop me?" she asked, as if the very idea was ludicrous…and because it _was_ ludicrous it was also admirable, coming from someone like me. It touched something deep in my psyche: this wasn't the admiration of non-Sensitives or the grateful. It was not quite between equals…but it was more than I ever had from any Jedi, it being a strange sort of validation. I might be Jedi and she might be Sith, but she recognized my virtues and didn't pretend they weren't there. "Very well," she recovered her poise, "Come, strike me down. If you can." She freed her lightsabers and lit both with a practiced gesture, her balance shifting.

The red light caressed her skin, highlighting the definition in her shoulders and her scarred stomach. The light made her eyes glitter uncannily, as if there were fires behind them rather than just light reflecting in them.

My heartbeat sped up. I'm not much for lightsaber combat—which made my challenge seem even stupider, suicidal, now—but I could tell that here is someone who knows the lightsaber as if she were born with one in hand. I was dead if I pressed this…but I would be dead anyway, wouldn't I? I was a threat to her master, after all…

"Is-is this more Sith trickery…?" She didn't answer, and I guess I didn't give her time to do so, " _No_. Do not taunt me, Sith—I will _not_ be played with." My head hurt, my stomach felt queasy, and I decided to simply throw myself headlong into the unknown. It was just _easier_ to force the fight. I might win. Probably not, but I might. And if I lost, well, the dead don't feel pain.

I wasn't as philosophical as I hoped I might be: I still wanted to live.

"Come at me, Jaesa," she purred, almost like a mentor in a practice ring. "You've been left with no other course of action."

I hesitated to make the first move. I know, logically, that being in the defensive position is an advantage…but Sith excel at taking the offense. It was also strange to have someone admit out loud that I'd been maneuvered into a no-win situation, as if I were being given an excuse for fighting.

 _She_ needed no excuse, but she didn't look as though this fight quite appealed to her. I wasn't sure whether to be insulted or not.

"The time for talk is over." Then, when I didn't say anything, didn't move, she flicked her eyes towards Master Karr, "Come at me, or I will cut down your master where he sits. Bound and helpless and all."

I didn't doubt that she would do it, excitement thrummed in her words, she seemed to shiver on the spot, excited for the battle….even though it was only a battle with me. Was she anticipating an easy victory? No, no, not with what I've learned of her. What is so exciting, then? Is it showing off for her Imperial soldier?

He stood in the doorway where I'd left him, parade rest, now actively watching the scene before him. _Force-user business,_ he'd said, with an inflection indicating he had no desire to be embroiled in it. But I could sense a faint ripple of apprehension, as if the opportunity to simply observe and admire his Sith master in action was a rare thing. I rather suspected the case was actually 'to simply observe and admire his Sith master in action _without her being aware of it_.'

I whipped out my lightsaber, knowing I was committed. It felt unwieldy in my hand, a difficult weapon to master being double-ended, but it had appealed to me. It hadn't appealed to others: it's considered a _very_ aggressive weapon…and I'll admit, part of me shied away from it, despite being the most comfortable style of fighting I'd tried, because of this aversion in my mentors.

 _She_ didn't seem to fear her lightsabers. In fact, they seemed to be nothing more or less than extensions of her arms, as if she would be swiping out at me with her fingertips rather than burning beams of light. It wasn't right, it wasn't _fair_ that a Sith should be so much better balanced than a Jedi.

She scowled when I still didn't move.

"You wanted to save him? There is only one way: _through me_ ," she said, her voice low and challenging. I found myself suddenly caught by the challenge. I knew I couldn't beat her…but I found myself wanting to _try_ , at the very least.

For the first time in my life, I looked at Death and stood my ground. I was going to die, I was afraid to die…but I was going to do my damnedest not to. And the thought made me smirk a little. Oh, Sith, I'm no warrior, but if I can I'll make you _work_ for this kill…and maybe mark you before you get me.

…but I couldn't help thinking that The Sith had more in mind than killing me. She could have done so very easily before now. She'd had ample opportunities. Maybe I wasn't looking into Death and accepting it as an eventuality. Maybe, what was really happening, was trusting that The Sith had something in mind that would be…well. Something else, I guess.

"Jaesa! Wait!"

I almost didn't hear Master Karr over the pounding in my ears as I threw myself forward at The Sith. For a few moments, a few good, strong blows, I thought I'd startled The Sith, though I might be able to put her on the ropes after all, make her call for quarter…then I realized I hadn't. She'd simply let me feel that way for a little while.

What had begun as a strong start for me became a grueling, interminable grind. She had experience, power, ferocity, a fluidity of motion that explained how she'd overcome so many warriors better than myself. But the killing blow didn't come…and that frustrated me. She was toying with me, I knew it, but her focus seemed entirely devoted to me, as if nothing else in the galaxy existed. Just the two of us, in this room. And she was prolonging the fight…why?

I took a bad step and knew I was dead. I watched her main hand lightsaber arcing down at me. I didn't see what she did or how she did it. All I knew was that her blade passed _through_ _me_ without actually harming me. She stopped at the end of her swing, body pivoted to the extreme that her momentum had carried it, the red beams of her lightsabers both buzzing and glowing in my peripheral vision. She'd cut clean through me…but I was alive. Alive and untouched.

I knew it couldn't possibly be _Sith magic_ , since there was no such thing…but it seemed that way. Logically, I _knew_ she had turned her lightsaber beam off and then reignited it with mind-blowing speed. I _knew_ this.

But perceptually…she'd killed me…

...and yet I lived.


	10. Chapter 10

-Hella-

Her breath came in heaving gasps, the white blankness of her aura suddenly giving way to the patterns of life, though, and emotion. Anger blossomed only to be instantly sublimated into shock and then into awe for the way I'd ended the fight. Fear overlaid the whole, fear over having so nearly been killed—and so easily!

"What do you want from me?" Jaesa whispered, so quietly Nomen Karr wouldn't hear her.

"To set you free." While Jaesa looked at the floor, I motioned Quinn to get Nomen Karr on his feet. Let him _feel_ his loss—and let her feel it, too.

Her mouth twitched as she stared wide-eyed into space. "Was it all a lie?" she asked, her voice unsteady.

"Was what a lie?" I asked.

"He-they always said the Light was stronger. That that was why I could see to the heart of those who were…Dark. But I-I couldn't defeat you…"

She's asking me for guidance. We're so very, very close to ending this as I wished it to end…

" _Is_ the Dark Side stronger…?" It was a treacherous little question; you could tell she thought so by the squeak in which she uttered it.

I didn't have to say anything. Nomen Karr, on his feet and between two armed guards, broke in, clearly desperate to reverse the harm, unaware that harm was all he could do, now. "Jaesa, you haven't completed your training! You mustn't let her deceive you!"

"I hardly think you're one to talk about deception, Master Karr," I declared, prowling to stand behind Jaesa, peering at him over her shoulder. She's mine, fool. Anything you say from this point onward only serves my ends.

"When you have fully communed with the Light Side of the Force, no Sith will be your match," Nomen Karr pleaded.

"And yet you were a Jedi Master with more years of 'communion' than I have years of life, and I defeated you." Nomen Karr's jaw tightened. "I've carved my way through every single Knight and Master the Jedi Order has thrown at me." The words were soft, reassuring even. This close, I could feel the tears building up in her—metaphorically, of course. "This is an old pain you feel. None of it from what has transpired today."

Jaesa turned, her eyes bloodshot, cheeks and nose rather red. She took the remark as it was meant: 'come, little sister, and tell me what's the matter.' Before speaking, she reached up and tucked her hair behind her ears, clearing her vision of all obstruction. "All my life I've put up with lies and deceit. I thought the Jedi would be different." She turned the rest of the way around, slowly, until she faced me, her eyes darting across my impassive features. "You've…shown me otherwise."

"Am _I_ any different?" I asked.

"At least…you're honest about what you are. About what drives you," she answered after a moment's thought.

Nomen Karr's silent wail of horror was music to my ears, as was the sense of something dark and heavy falling across Jaesa's aura. Something in the mire seemed to unknot, to loosen, like hair coming down after a long night of being done up in uncomfortable hairpins. I forced myself to radiate warm reassurance, the idea that I _was_ beckoning her to the Dark Side, but I was honest about it. I wasn't tricking her: I was simply holding the door open. And she would perceive this through our newly established bond—which immediately yanked tight, as if she'd suddenly reached out and clutched at it, like a life preserver suddenly cast to her.

"You exposed Master Karr for what he is. Zylixx too…it's your power that reveals a person's true nature. The fear," her voice trembled as her aura began to pulse, this time with stronger, more definite emotions. There was still much fear, but that will work itself out with time, "you inspire forces _truth_ to the surface. I want that."

The break happened, not loud, not extravagant, just 'tch' and I knew in my guts, through the bond we'd struck, that little Champion of the Light Miss Jaesa…no longer existed. Now, there was this girl before me, bearing the same name, wearing the same face, but ready to be molded as I saw fit. When she opened her eyes, they'd begun to take on faintly amber tones: she hadn't slipped to the Dark Side. She'd thrown herself into it, desperate to escape the trap into which she felt she'd been ushered.

It was exactly as I told Master Yonlach: she won't fall for my machinations, she'll dive in headfirst.

Nomen Karr shattered and it was lucky the soldiers were on their toes, or he'd have thrown himself at Jaesa and I, using his teeth since his hands were bound. Jaesa staggered back, shocked by the violent motion, restrained through it was. I raised an arm, passing it between Jaesa and Nomen Karr, giving him a look of deep distaste, finding his attempt uninspired. Clichéd. Pointless.

And Jaesa responded positively to the surety I radiated. "I shall teach you what you wish to know."

"As your apprentice?" Jaesa asked, confirming my sense that she was one who needed someone to lead her. It's her upbringing.

"If you like, though I have not, myself, completed my—"

"It doesn't matter," she cut in, her big eyes fixed on me, almost trustingly. I say 'almost' because, whatever her failings, she was a smart girl and smart enough not to trust anyone without some reservation. It was wise and I applauded the wisdom.

I smiled for her. "If it doesn't matter to you, then I won't deprive you of what you ask. Very well, my apprentice, I shall teach you what you wish to know. Of life. Of the Dark Side. Of combat. Whatever you wish."

It was like setting a feast before a starving woman, so much freely given, knowledge previously outlawed, attention that seemed more personal and less professional.

"I am…honored, my lord," Jaesa bowed her head, her aura pulsing with powerful devotion.

"Hella," I declared simply. "My name is Hella, and I encourage you to use it."

The offer of informality elicited a wavering giggle. "You know…suddenly I feel a-a sense of purpose. Something I can count on. But…what about…Master Karr?" Unease flickered across her aura. He was, after all, part of her life for a time. She clearly felt she owed his fate some attention.

"He'll be taken to Dromund Kaas, to my master, Darth Baras. We'll let the two old goats have their feud and settle it themselves. As you said yourself: their vendetta with us as pawns had innocent people caught in the crossfire. It's high time they had it out face-to-face."

Her aura sparked, as though surprised I'd remembered what she'd said. "Isn't that…a death sentence?"

"Nomen Karr has fallen to the Dark Side," I responded soothingly, "he may best Baras. He may not. Perhaps they'll even decide their feud is worth preserving and hate one another from opposite sides of the galaxy. Who can say?" I was tempted to say more, but held my tongue. The temptation to talk too much is a chronic Sith failing.

Jaesa giggled, probably at her mental image of Baras (as a faceless Sith) and Nomen Karr glowering at one another from opposite ends of an astrogation chart. It didn't really matter, I don't think, what happened to Nomen Karr. She simply felt she ought to care, for propriety's sake. "Not I."

"Nor I," I agreed.

This was too much for Nomen Karr: the rage vanished, snuffed out, leaving him a broken shell, almost empty, devoid of spunk or spirit, muttering broken fragments of what should be indignation but which lacked…well, I've already said it.

It's been a _very_ productive day.

"Captain, please clear your men. You may return to the ship whenever you are ready. We shall be along later, Jaesa and I."

"Of course, my, lord." Although Quinn's aura fluttered with stifled curiosity, he gave no indication for a non-Sensitive to pick up on.

Jaesa needs a few moments, and I called for them not a minute too soon. No sooner had Quinn vanished from sight, taking all his troops with him, then Jaesa walked over to Nomen Karr's chair and sat down on it, her elbows on her knees, her head in her hands.

The breath she drew was shaky, and the gulp that followed clearly audible.

I gave her my back, affording her some privacy in which she could pull herself together. Finally, though, and it took some time, she spoke: "I _do_ look forward to learning your ways."

"I look forward to teaching you. Shall we return to the ship or would you like a little more time, here? Vette will want to cheer you up, I'm sure, and she can be a bit…overwhelming."

Jaesa got to her feet and came to stand near me. "Who is Vette?"

"My Twi'lek," I answered, taking Jaesa by the arm in a big-sisterly fashion. "She offsets Captain Quinn nicely—you met him briefly, the one who escorted you to me, earlier."

"Ah. And are there others?" Nervousness. Fear of being judged, fear of being found wanting…fear of being forgotten or shunted to the side. Fear of competition for her role of 'apprentice.' And a dark certainty: let there be competition. She would find a way to crush it.

"No, just the three—well, four now counting you—of us. A small, select band," I answered.

Jaesa's aura unknotted a little upon learning there was no competition at the moment. Weariness suffused her.

"What you need most is a hot shower. And some rest," I declared sympathetically, "and perhaps a hot meal. In that order, I think."

"A hot shower sounds marvelous," she admitted wanly.

"Then it shall be so. You must tell me where your things are and I shall have them fetched. But first we must report to my master—he will be eager to hear how this has all panned out."

"Are you satisfied with the outcome, my master?" she asked nervously.

"I am _very_ satisfied with the outcome, Jaesa," I answered benevolently. And she would sense the truth of it, I'm sure.

* * *

-Jaesa-

My emotions roiled uncontrollably, but part of me seemed elevated above them, apart from them. Detached. Objective. I felt…strange, as if that killing blow had somehow severed me from everything and that I was just waiting to come back down. But I didn't have to land where I started, if I didn't want to…I didn't have to be who I'd started as.

"What do you want from me?" I asked her, voice only a little louder than a whisper.

The lightsabers turned off and she drew herself out of her ending stance. She didn't look at me, but answered clearly, if a bit out of breath, "To set you free."

She'd certainly done that!

She motioned to her Imperial soldier, who spoke several inaudible words to the ones that lurked out of sight.

"Was it all a lie?" I asked, surprised by the shake in my voice.

"Was what a lie?" she responded practically.

It felt strange asking her for answers…but at the same time, of everyone in this room with whom I've had any meaningful contact she's never lied, never tried to hide what she is. She's been honest. She might be Sith…but she's honest. She didn't start the fight… _I_ did. She didn't kill me when she easily could have, when she had every reason.

Everything I've learned about her kind is wrong. Or maybe she simply defies anyone who tries to classify her. I want that. "He-they always said the Light was stronger. That that was why I could see to the heart of those who were…Dark. But I-I couldn't defeat you…" I looked her in the eyes, a tiny fragment of myself hating my next question, " _Is_ the Dark Side stronger…?"

Master Karr broke in, and I resented him for it. I hadn't asked _his_ opinion: I was all too familiar with it. For once, I felt the strength that the resentment brought, the strength to question, to _defy_. "Jaesa, you haven't completed your training! You mustn't let her deceive you!"

The Sith snorted. "I hardly think you're one to talk about deception, Master Karr," she declared haughtily, moving to stand near—but not too near—my shoulder.

I approved: you tell him, Sith. She has the arch disapproval down to an art. And there's something innate to it that I never saw on Alderaan, something that makes it more effective and impressive.

"When you have fully communed with the Light Side of the Force, no Sith will be your match," Master Karr bleated. The same old Jedi line. So why did I have no comfort in peace? No sense of security in tranquility? Why couldn't he stop her? Or her sadistic monster of a master?

The Sith didn't disappoint me: she had her answer ready. "And yet _you_ were a Jedi Master with more years of 'communion' than I have years of life, and I defeated you." Master Karr tensed. Who said Sith can't ague sanely? "I've carved my way through every single Knight and Master the Jedi Order has thrown at me." She sniffed softly. "…this is an old pain you feel. None of it from what has transpired today."

It took me a moment to realize that the last two sentences were directed, kindly, to me. I found her looking at me, her expression still impassive, but with the beginnings of sympathy. I didn't feel insulted by it. Rather, it seemed to be an invitation to share what was on my mind, whatever was on my mind, without needing to censor myself. For someone who has always had to watch what she said, for one reason or another, being invited to speak freely was a gift. "All my life I've put up with lies and deceit. I thought the Jedi would be different. You've…shown me otherwise."

"Am _I_ any different?" she asked, which was ridiculously fair of her.

I did think about it before answering her, although the answer came readily. "At least…you're honest about what you are. About what drives you." Which is more than so many can say. If this…is falling to the Dark Side…it's not so bad. "You exposed Master Karr for what he is. Zylixx too…it's your power that reveals a person's true nature. The fear, you inspire forces _truth_ to the surface. I want that."

Oh, I want that. Desperately.

Master Karr reentered the conversation at that point, raging incoherently as he fought against the soldiers who'd got him on his feet. If they hadn't been prepared for the acts of a madman, Master Karr would surely have broken free of them and come at me.

I glanced at The Sith, who raised her arm between him and me, as if that single limb would be all the protection I needed from the crazed fallen Jedi. I found I wasn't afraid of Master Karr. Rather, I felt a detached sort of disdain. There was poetic justice in all this and, for once, I found myself in appreciation of the galaxy's sense of irony.

The Sith didn't let Master Karr's interruption derail the conversation, "I shall teach you what you wish to know."

"As your apprentice?" I asked, hopefully.

She smiled at this, the first time today I'd seen her do so. It was indulgent, but not coddling and, perhaps, a little rueful. Now that the fight was over, she seemed to be returning to a more…approachable…a more _human_ state.

"If you like, though I have not, myself, completed my—"

"It doesn't matter," I cut her off. If she's an apprentice, it is by _choice_. And I sometimes think a Sith apprentice isn't quite the same as a Jedi Padawan.

This time she chuckled softly. "If it doesn't matter to you, then I won't deprive you of that. Very well, my apprentice, I shall teach you what you wish to know." My emotions buoyed up and, for once, I didn't try to beat them back down, "Of life. Of the Dark Side. Of combat. Whatever you wish."

Whatever I wish? The thought of such freedom in picking the direction of my instruction was overwhelming. It was like being offered the whole galaxy.

"I am…honored, my lord." That was how Sith liked to be addressed? That was how her Imperial addressed her, too, so it must be appropriate.

"Hella," she responded simply, "My name is Hella, and I encourage you to use it."

So that's her name. I found myself laughing nervously, my headache back in full force, "You know…suddenly I feel a-a sense of purpose. Something I can count on." And it was true. True, and wonderful to just say what was on my mind. "But…what about…Master Karr?" There _is_ that. He's a dreadful hypocrite, but he did remove me from one unhappy situation even if only to put me in another…and now I'm here. I'm here, and the shackles are gone…

…suddenly I was very glad for Lord Hella's steady presence. Otherwise, I might just fly into a million tiny pieces.

"He'll be taken to Dromund Kaas," she answered, "to my master, Darth Baras. We'll let the two old goats have their feud and settle it themselves. As you said yourself: their vendetta with us as pawns had innocent people caught in the crossfire. It's high time they had it out face-to-face."

I nodded agreement for a moment before the full impact of what she said hit me. Well, first I realized those were my almost exact words from the message inviting her to a face-to-face chat—the one Master Karr talked me out of—and then what her statements actually _meant._ "Isn't that…a death sentence?"

But was that _really_ so inappropriate? How many people had died because of him, needlessly? I didn't think she cared about 'innocent people' but about the inefficiency involved with their being in her way. I could appreciate the pragmatism.

And if it wasn't a death sentence…well. So many others had suffered because of him, why shouldn't he suffer, too? 'Balance in all things,' isn't that the Jedi way of thinking?

"Nomen Karr has fallen to the Dark Side. He may best Baras. He may not," Lord Hella answered, only mildly interested in her projection, "Perhaps they'll even decide their feud is worth preserving and hate one another from opposite sides of the galaxy. Who can say?"

I imagined Master Karr and some faceless Darth scowling at one another via holo, griping and threatening harm or retribution while nothing ever changed. "Not I," I admitted with a hesitant laugh.

"Nor I," Lord Hella agreed.

Master Karr suddenly fell silent, the fight abruptly gone out of him.

"Captain, please clear your men," Lord Hella directed, "You may return to the ship whenever you're ready. We shall be along later, Jaesa and I."

"Of course, my lord," her Imperial soldier responded briskly. Within moments, the room was empty except for Lord Hella and myself. I walked over to the chair Master Karr had occupied and dropped into it, my head in my hands, my thoughts beginning to buzz like angry flies.

When I finally looked up, I found Lord Hella had turned her back to me, but seemed attentive, as if waiting for a sign that I'd had the time I needed to recollect myself. With company, but without a true audience. "I _do_ look forward to learning your ways," I declared, a little thickly but earnestly as I got to my feet.

"I look forward to teaching you," she answered solicitously. "Shall we return to the ship, or would you like a little more time, here? Vette will want to cheer you up, I'm sure, and she can be a bit…overwhelming."

Curiosity piqued. "Who is Vette?"

"My Twi'lek," Lord Hella answered, taking me by the arm, rather as an older sister might do. "She offsets Captain Quinn nicely—you met him briefly, the one who escorted you to me, earlier."

Captain Quinn. So far, my only real impression of the man is…well, vague, little more than a uniform on a well-programmed droid. A droid who enjoyed watching his Sith superior in action. "Ah. And are there…others?" I'm comfortable with Lord Hella. I've no opinion about her Imperial Captain. She speaks fondly enough of this 'Vette' character…but who else is there? Anyone I should worry about? The idea of being sunk into an established crew, of being 'the new girl' again made me shudder.

"No, just the three—well, four now counting you—of us. A small, select band."

That was a relief. I'd hated being the new girl with the Jedi. I was too old. I was an outsider. I'd hated it.

As if she sensed my thoughts, and maybe to some extent she did, she continued, "What you need most is a hot shower. And some rest, and perhaps a hot meal. In that order, I think."

The idea of hot water, a soft bunk, and hot food made me keenly aware of my body, not just my emotions. I was sweaty, both with the hot sweat of combat and the cold sweat of…I don't know. My hair felt damp and unpleasant and my robes smelled sort of musty. "A hot shower sounds _marvelous_."

"Then it shall be so," she chuckled, "You must tell me where your things are and I shall have them fetched. But first, we must report to my master—he will be eager to hear how this has all panned out."

"Are you satisfied with the outcome, my master?" I asked nervously as we stepped out into the humid Hutta evening.

"I am _very_ satisfied with the outcome, Jaesa," came the easy answer, before she directed us towards her speeder, which would take us back to Jiguuna, and her ship…

…and the rest of my life.

-END-

* * *

Author's Note: That's the end of it! Thank you to all my readers and special thank you to everyone who reviewed, followed, and/or favorited! I appreciate the support!


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